Winter Revelations
by Helen Palsgraf
Summary: This fic picks up where Season 6 leaves off, with some wishful thinking that Season 7 won't be a total massacre of all of our favorite characters. Pairings include Jon/Sansa, Tormund/Brienne, Arya/Gendry.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 _"Wait, My Lords, My Ladies, please," Jon said, pleadingly. "You have my gratitude, Lady Mormont, as do you all, for your undeserved faith in me. But I wasn't meant to be king. I'm not heir to Winterfell, the rightful heir is…"_

 _Sansa stood then. "Until we know the fate of our brother Bran, as the eldest legitimate child of Ned Stark, I am his heir and the Lady of Winterfell." She looked over at Jon as she continued. "And I am proud to be your Princess in the North."_

 _She spoke again to the audience of Northern bannermen, Knights of the Vale, and other friends. But she looked steadily at Lord Baelish. "My brother Jon will be a wise and honorable King, taking the place of our fallen brother, our King Robb." She curtsied to him, "Your Grace."_

 _The Lords in the hall again cheered. "Princess Sansa!" "King Jon!" "The White Wolf!" "King in the North!"_

 _Jon swallowed down any remaining argument, and instead addressed the hall, this time accepting his role as King. This felt familiar, the burden of unwanted leadership in a time of turmoil. Being trusted with a responsibility he felt he didn't deserve. He only hoped this time it wouldn't end with him being stabbed by his friends... "Thank you, My Lords, My Ladies, for your support of our House, of our cause. Keeping our land and our people safe during these dangerous times must be a priority during this long winter…"_

"I thought we agreed we'd have no more secrets between us, Sister?" Jon mused, as he pulled on his cloak. The last of the Northern lords had left the banquet hall, and although it seemed that Lord Baelish intended to linger behind, Sansa had not moved from her seat at the table. The chant of "King in the North" still rang in his ears.

She looked up at him in mock surprise. "You think that was my doing?"

He offered her a hand. When she took it, he grinned at her. "I'm getting better at reading you, at least."

She huffed in response. "Well, we said we'd trust each other, I don't recall saying I wouldn't have secrets."

He turned serious. "Sansa, what are you thinking? You're the Lady of Winterfell, the Warden of the North, and if anyone should wear a crown here, it's you. I'm just a bastard," he avoided her gaze, looking around the room where Stark bannermen and even Knights of the Vale had proclaimed him king.

"Now you're a King. The North needs someone to rally behind. They aren't going to rally behind me. I was wed to the very enemy you defeated," she put her hand up to stop him from interjecting. "It's true. He was a monster, but I said the vows, said them to the son of the man who killed our brother, their king, his queen and unborn child, and my lady mother. Not to mention the fathers, sons and brothers of our bannermen."

As he started to argue, she silenced him again. "Jon, I won't be anyone's pawn anymore, and certainly not Littlefinger's. He would love to crown me Queen in the North, take me to wife, and control two of the seven kingdoms. He wants the Iron Throne, and he thinks I can provide a path to it. I've spent every moment since I first arrived in King's Landing as someone's pawn. I trusted all of the wrong people, and let my childish dreams of wanting to be queen destroy my family and my home. No more."

"You should be queen now. Queen in the North. It's your right."

She smiled up at him. "Yes. And it's my right to refuse."

He frowned. "You spoke with Lady Mormont."

"I did. I told her you would likely need her help to unify the North."

"It was a very impassioned speech. Was it yours?"

"No, the words were her own," she smiled. "Lady Mormont needs no help with speaking harsh truths. She is quite fierce, as were both her mother and her namesake, I'm told."

"Sansa… I don't even know how to be king. You were raised to be a queen, to be a great lady of an ancient house. I was raised…"

"You were raised in the North. You were the youngest Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. You were betrayed by a group of your own men because you did what was right and just. You aren't any different from Robb, good and honorable, truly our father's son."

A wave of grief passed over his face. "After Father was executed, when Robb was crowned King in the North, I tried to the leave the Night's Watch. I wanted to join Robb, fight for him, avenge our father, rescue you and Arya from the Lannisters. Sam and Edd, they stopped me."

Sansa smiled sadly. "Robb would have done the same for you. He broke his vow to the Freys because he followed his heart."

Jon looked around the room, ghosts of his family everywhere. There should be the sound of children here. Robb's children, Rickon and Bran…

Sansa began again, softly. "What you did on the battlefield, Jon, trying to save our brother…"

He shook his head with the shame of it. "It was foolish. You warned me and I didn't listen."

She smiled sadly, and placed a hand on his cheek to make him meet her eye. "It was foolish, yes. But it was brave and self-sacrificing. You did everything to save him, likely the last legitimate male heir to Winterfell. You didn't wage this battle for your own glory, so you could be the Lord of Winterfell or King in the North; you did it for love of your family, for love of your people. I was not the one who convinced Lady Lyanna you should be king. Jon, you convinced her."

He sighed, resigned. "You'll at least remain Lady of Winterfell, won't you?"

"So long as you promise not to sell me to some other monstrous lord," she said, firmly.

His eyes darkened. "Never. Winterfell is your home, it's where you belong."

She nodded. "It's where we both belong."

"And I need you here with me. I can't do this without your counsel," he said, almost pleading.

"Then we're agreed, Your Grace," she said, smiling teasingly.

He laughed.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace. Your Highness," Ser Davos said, entering the hall.

"Ser Davos, how can we be of assistance?" Sansa interjected, before Jon could shake off his new title.

"The men were finally able to pry open the lower level of the crypt that was sealed, now we can locate Rickon's tomb. We can lay your brother to rest, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Ser Davos, we will be down shortly," Jon nodded.

As Ser Davos took his leave, Sansa exhaled. "At least we can put him to rest. It's more than we were given for Father, Robb and Mother."

Jon swallowed down the bile stinging his throat as they left the hall. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to forget the image burned into his mind of the arrow piercing Rickon's heart. He wanted to remember his little brother as he was, with his mop of messy hair, always toddling behind him and their siblings. It wasn't long before Shaggy Dog had been bigger than Rickon, but he had never been afraid of his wild, messy direwolf.

He wondered what Rickon had been through since he and Bran had escaped Winterfell when it was sacked by Theon Greyjoy. He knew that Rickon had been with Osha, the wildling. It was reported that she, too, had been killed by Ramsay Bolton. But there had been no sign of Bran, Hodor, or Howland Reed's children, who were said to have fled Winterfell together. He had sent a raven to Reed, but there had been no word of either his children, nor of Bran. He wonders where they could have gone, and why they separated from Rickon and Osha. If they had been looking for sanctuary, they should have gone to the Umbers as well. They had always been loyal to the Starks, and there was no reason to believe they would be betrayed. So, where did they go that they left Rickon behind? Why were they so far north, all the way to Last Hearth, rather than traveling back to Greywater Watch? Were they headed to Castle Black? He would have known if they'd been found anywhere along the Wall. So where were they?

And where was Arya? The Lady Brienne had reported she was traveling, of her own free will, with the Hound, who had apparently fled King's Landing during the Battle of the Blackwater. Arya had been on her way back to Winterfell, with a group of new recruits traveling to Castle Black. According to Brienne, she had been disguised as a boy, and Yoren spirited her from King's Landing after their father's execution. The group had come under attack and Yoren was killed, as the Gold Coats were looking for one of the men intended for the Night's Watch, which in itself was very unusual. They didn't seem to be looking for Arya, however, but another boy who had been traveling with them. The baker boy who had given her the information worked at an Inn, and had traveled with her and the boy the Lannisters sought, after being held at Harrenhall. He had parted from them and they continued their travels, with the Brotherhood Without Banners, which planned to return Arya to Robb (for a generous reward). So, the question remained as to how she ended up with the Hound, and where either of them is now. Brienne had reported the Hound dead, but he had heard reports to the contrary. Lord Baelish said Arya had not turned up at the Eyrie, and Brienne said she was not at Riverrun. Where would she have gone?

Now that the Stark sigil flew above Winterfell once more, would his brother and sister return home? He could only hope. To see the man that Bran would be today. And Arya… his beloved little sister whose hair he would muss. She was a skinny little thing, always underfoot, wanting to learn to fight like her brothers…

He pushed away the thoughts for his missing siblings. The irony that the only sibling he had left is the one who never showed him any affection. She had always rejected him, tried to deny him as a brother, and in return he had never much affection for her either, if he was honest. She was silly and temperamental, exactly the sort of girl Ygritte would have ridiculed, an absurd highborn lady. That Sansa, however, no longer existed. In the place of the pretty, delicate, silly girl, who dreamed of knights and romance, was a strong, beautiful woman, who was smart and shrewd. She also was humble and compassionate, and had made a great effort to make up for their detachment as children.

"You don't have to be down here, Sansa, you'll soil your dress," Jon cleared his throat. The musty smell combined with the dust was overwhelming.

"I will be fine. I know you hate it down here, I won't make you do this alone," she dismissed his concern. She sighed. "The last time I came down here was with Lord Baelish."

"When was this?" he asked, surprised by the admission.

"When he first returned me to Winterfell. He was telling me about our Aunt Lyanna, and…"

"Over here, Your Grace," one of the men called.

"Which one is for the lordling? I'm sorry, I don't know me letters, Your Grace," another of the men asked.

"Please. Allow me," Jon said, entering the room. "Can you bring the torch closer?"

"Are you certain Father had one made for Rickon? He was quite young when we left for King's Landing," Sansa said, holding one of the torches closer.

"I'm certain. Robb, Theon and I were with him when he ordered the marble carved."

"Here's Bran's, and Arya's. Oh, here's mine. That's rather discomforting to see," she muttered.

"I found it, it's here," Jon said, touching the name 'Rickon' on the cold marble.

Sansa gasped.

"Sansa, what's the matter?" Jon asked.

She shook her head. "I'm fine. It was just a spider. A really big… spider." She addressed the men, "Please take Rickon's crypt from the storage and prepare our brother for burial. The King and I will be along shortly, we need a moment in this place to mourn our lost family."

"Yes, Princess," the men replied, moving the coffin.

"What's the matter?" Jon repeated once the men had left.

"Jon… I…" she sighed. "You just need to see for yourself."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

She stepped away from the marble stone and waited for the realization to set in.

"No. No. It's not…"

"Jon," she reached for him.

"Sansa," he croaked, his voice thick with emotion.

She grabbed his hands in hers, and looked up at him. "I don't know what's going through your head right now. But this changes nothing."

"It changes everything," he whispered, as the tears streamed down his face.

Sansa put her gloved hands on his cheeks and wiped the tears away.

"Stark blood runs through your veins. That hasn't changed."

"The only thing I ever wanted was to be the trueborn son of Ned Stark. And now… now I'm not even…"

He choked down a sob threatening to rise from his chest.

"You are Ned Stark's son. It says so right there. _Beloved son of Eddard of House Stark_."

" _Jaehaerys Targaryen_ isn't Ned Stark's son," he said, bitterness creeping into his voice.

"No, but Jon Snow is. That's who you are. Ned Stark's son. He loved you. More than we ever knew. You know what this means. He sacrificed his honor for you, to keep you safe. King Robert would've had you killed, the way the Mountain killed Rhaegar's other children."

"Rhaegar's other children… were my brother and sister…" he said slowly, trying to make sense of everything that was so strange and foreign.

"The Lannisters had them killed, because they had a claim to the Iron Throne. _You_ have a claim to the Iron Throne. You aren't just the King in the North… Jon, you're the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms," she exhaled in disbelief.

"I don't want the bloody Iron Throne," he said, staring at the etched marble.

"You wouldn't. You're too good to want power," she smiled sadly.

"Sansa… I just found you, and now you're not even my…"

"I'm your family, Jon. This changes nothing. I'll always be your family, and we will never be apart again," she said firmly.

He forced a smile, noticing the worry in her voice despite her assurances. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I'm going to protect our home, protect the North, and I will protect you."

She embraced him, her arms tightly around him. She noticed his hands shook as he touched her hair.

"You should take some time. I'll handle the burial arrangements for Rickon, and we'll postpone the service until tomorrow. This is a lot for both of us to take in. It's been an eventful day, just… a lot to take in."

He nodded. "I'll be up in just a moment. Thank you."

He looked at the marble again, the truth of his heritage carved when he was just a babe. His father, no, uncle, Ned Stark, had promised when they were last together that he would tell him of his mother the next time they were together. Had he lived, that would have been after he had already taken his vows with the Night's Watch. He and Maester Aemon, both Targaryens, both ineligible for the Iron Throne, both kept safe from King Robert and the Lannisters only by their vow to renounce their titles.

The marble, which read:

" _Jaehaerys Targaryen, born 281 AL, to Lyanna of House Stark and Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen. Known as Jon Snow, beloved son of Eddard of House Stark."_

He laughed mirthlessly as the thought occurred to him that the date of his death was already realized. How he should be inside that tomb. Of course, he was grateful he wasn't. Being alive kept his sister safe. No, he thought, _his cousin_. Sansa is his cousin, she was never his sister. And Robb, and Rickon, and Bran, and Arya, his cousins. His uncle, Ned. His aunt, Catelyn. Lady Catelyn who had always been so cold to him, excluding him, reminding him he was not a Stark, he was only a bastard. He supposed she was right, he wasn't a Stark. He was a Targaryen. His mother died in childbirth and his uncle brought him back from the Tower of Joy and raised him as his bastard to keep him safe. Ned had sacrificed his honor, endangering the harmony of his new marriage. _Beloved son of Eddard of House Stark_. He knew in his heart, he would always consider Ned his father.

He wondered for the first time what his mother had truly been like. He knew the stories, although Ned had rarely spoken of her. She was wild and beautiful. Arya favored her, both in looks and in spirit. She caught the eye of the Dragon Prince and was kidnapped by him. Was that really the way of it? For Jon to have the name Targaryen, they would have wed. A polygamous union, since Rhaegar already had a bride and other children. But they were all gone now. All of the Targaryens were gone, except…

For the first time, Jon considered the Dragon Queen, far away in Essos. His… aunt, he supposed. Rhaegar's sister, Daenerys Stormborn, now called the Mother of Dragons, ruling far away cities, with an army of the Unsullied. She was his only remaining family, other than Sansa, and perhaps Arya and Bran.

He finally left the crypt. He didn't know what to do about the discovery. Sansa was right, it changed nothing. The North had declared for him, believing him a bastard. They certainly would not refuse him the title knowing he wasn't actually a bastard, and was a Targaryen as well as a Stark.

He did not know, however, whether the truth would help his cause, or hurt it. If he revealed it, he could become even more of a target for the Lannisters. Also, his aunt, who it was said is building an army to retake the Iron Throne, may not be so welcoming to a nephew holding better claim to the throne. It was said she had her Dothraki husband kill her older brother, his uncle, before she killed her husband as well. She did not sound any better than Cersei.

However, revealing he is a Targaryen could get other houses to support their cause. To bring forces to the north, to fight the Night's King and his army of the dead.

He decided he would discuss the matter with Sansa, and rely upon her judgment. She would know better than he the politics of Westeros. The thought occurred to him again that she would be a far better regent than he, a superior Queen in the North.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"It is certainly good to be on dry land, Your Grace," Tyrion sighed, grateful to feel the dock beneath his feet.

"I agree, My Lord," Daenerys replied, taking Grey Worm's arm as she disembarked.

Ahead, they saw the Queen of Thorns greet the Lord of House Serry. Southshield Island was certainly not a major port, but that was the point, to avoid detection of the Queen's fleet for as long as possible. They last thing they needed was for Euron Greyjoy to have advanced warning of their arrival.

Tyrion had been disappointed when they were not headed straight for King's Landing, but when they had learned in Sunspear that the Boltons had been defeated and Jon Snow was now the King in the North, he knew that King's Landing had to be the end point, not the beginning, of their campaign. When Daenerys walked into King's Landing and sat the Iron Throne, it needed to be with the blessing of all of the Great Houses of Westeros, at least the ones that remained.

Once they had defeated Euron Greyjoy and crowned Yara Queen of the Iron Islands, then Daenerys would have the backing of two of the seven kingdoms, as well as the Ironborn, comprising a large force within the Isles and Rivers. Although Riverrun had been overtaken by the Freys, news had traveled that Walder Frey had been murdered, along with two of his sons. The Brotherhood Without Banners was terrorizing the Freys in the Riverlands. It appeared that the Vale had united with the North under Jon Snow as King, so if Tyrion could convince the White Wolf and his own former lady wife to back the Dragon Queen, they would have nearly reunited the Seven Kingdoms, leaving only the Rock and the Stormlands. There was currently no uniting House in the Stormlands, with the extinction of the last of the Baratheons.

Tyrion shut his eyes in pain thinking of his gentle nephew Tommen. Word had traveled that the boy king had taken his own life following his tyrant sister's attack on the Sept of Baelor. And Myrcella… he had great difficulty being in the presence of the treacherous Sand Snakes knowing they had killed his innocent niece. Joffrey had been a monster and he shed no tears over his death, a death he now knows was orchestrated by House Tyrell and Littlefinger. But Myrcella had been a sweet and innocent girl, unlike his retched sister. He knows Daenerys needs them, however, and they now rule Dorne. But if he had the chance to choke the life from even one of those retched bastard girls, he would gladly do it. They did their father, the Red Viper, a great disservice. They had no honor. Oberyn had died to get justice for his sister and her children. He supposed he had no honor, either, preparing to orchestrate the death of his own sister, and his brother, if it came to it.

Jaime… his beloved brother. Jaime who was the only person alive who had ever loved him, who saved his life and risked Cersei's wrath, only for him to repay the kindness by killing their father. He could find no regret in his actions, though, no remorse. His father deserved what he got.

And that's what he hoped he could bring to Sansa, a promise that Cersei would meet the same end as Tywin. That she wouldn't have a price on her head any longer, and could marry a brave, handsome lord, who would be the Lord of Winterfell. That also meant that Daenerys would need to deal with Jon Snow, the current White Wolf, and King in the North.

The only problem was that Jon Snow wasn't a Stark, he was a Targaryen. Varys apparently had kept the secret for a long time. Which meant that Daenerys did not have the best claim on the Iron Throne. For her to be the legitimate ruler of the Seven Kingdoms meant she had to let the secret fester in hopes it was never revealed. If the secret was revealed, she would have to kill Jon Snow, or marry him. Tyrion had no doubt that once she met the dashing young Northman, she would choose the latter option.

Lord and Lady Serry led them to their rooms within the modest castle. For Tyrion, it was a relief to finally be back in Westeros, with Westerosi standards in accommodations. Although he appreciated not having his head on a pike, and other than the brief stint as a slave he could hardly complain about his standard of living, being in a foreign land was still strange and disconcerting.

As they dined, he looked at his Queen, however, and realized this was her first visit to Westeros since she was born. This land must seem foreign to her, he thought, having been raised in the Free Cities, most of her childhood in Pentos.

"My Queen," he spoke. "How do you find your kingdom?"

She smiled. "Strange, I admit. Westeros is different than I expected."

"Westeros is quite varied in geography, much like the lands of the East. Here in the South, we barely notice the effects of the winter, but up North, even in summer, they have snow…"

Daenerys listened intently to Tyrion's vast knowledge of her kingdom. She didn't intend to just sit on some iron throne, ruling lands she had never before laid eyes on. No, she wanted to visit the entirety of Westeros, be a guest in every house. She wanted to understand the problems of her subjects, from the Great Houses, to the lowest peasant. She especially wanted to walk this Wall Tyrion was currently telling her more about, the one where her nephew had been the Lord Commander until his death… and his resurrection.

She had nearly ordered Varys thrown overboard when he told her the secret he had been keeping from her. He reasoned that keeping the secret was the only way to keep her nephew safe, and that he had posed no threat so long as he was in the Night's Watch. Men of the Night's Watch could hold no title, take no wife, and were not supposed to sire children. They served for life. However, this Jon Snow had been murdered by a group of his own men, thus ending his service to the Night's Watch. A Red Priestess had resurrected him. He then raised an army to retake his family's ancestral home and was crowned King in the North. That's when Varys decided his knowledge was important enough to tell his Queen.

Tyrion had praised Jon Snow, assuring her she would find him both handsome and honorable, like his father, Ned Stark. She didn't particularly find Ned Stark to be honorable, since he was one of the men who rebelled against his king and resulted in her exile. However, Varys agreed with Tyrion's assessment, revealing that Ned Stark had stood up to Robert Baratheon, speaking out against his attempt to assassinate her. Ned lost his head because he showed mercy to Cersei Lannister, giving her the opportunity to leave King's Landing and get to safety before he revealed her treachery to Robert. They both believe that, had Ned lived, he would have raised his bannermen to usher in her return. She hoped that his "bastard son" would do the same.

She still had not decided what to do about him. By rights, as the legitimate son of her brother Rhaegar, he was the rightful heir. But she was already a Queen, with a great fleet, and three grown dragons. The throne was hers to take. He wasn't even aware of his true parentage, as far as she knew. He had been named King in the North, but she was weary of ceding power to this unknown man, who had been so ambitious to become the youngest Lord Commander in the history of the Night's Watch, and the only bastard to be named King in the North. That kind of ambition concerned her.

She set aside her concerns, however, and instead listened dreamily to Tyrion's tales of the Children of the Forest, the giants and the wildlings who lived north of the Wall.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"You may enter," Jon answered the knock at his door.

Sansa came in with a servant to bring his supper. He had not come to the dining hall that evening.

"That's all, thank you. Please see to it the King is not disturbed. I will call for a servant to remove the tray, please leave His Grace uninterrupted until then," Sansa said, closing the door behind him. "I've already taken my meal, but I had them bring extra wine."

"I hope they brought a lot of extra wine," Jon managed a smile.

Sansa smiled sadly at him, and poured the wine. She avoided the topic of his parentage for the time being, instead getting him caught up on the rest of the afternoon, and the evening's activities.

"What excuse did you make for me at supper?" he asked.

"I took my meal in my chambers, and told the lords that we would be preparing for our brother's final rest tomorrow with prayer and solitude. I would have come here to eat with you, but I wanted to give you more time."

He smiled sadly. "I believe you've gotten better at reading me as well, sis-, Sansa," he corrected.

She looked pained, and grabbed his hand. "Jon, I am still your family. There's no falsehood in still calling me Sister. We shared a father."

He winced. "I know. And we'll need to keep up appearances."

"Do we? You're the rightful King of Westeros."

"I suppose. But saying so will do nothing but ensure that Cersei sends Lannister forces here, and we have a more important fight ahead, not to mention winter has come."

"And what better way to rally the great houses of Westeros to our aid in that great war, than to reveal your true parentage?"

"Is that what would happen?"

"You read the news. Cersei has, literally, burned all of her support." A wave of grief passed over her features, as she thought about the Sept of Baelor and the dead of King's Landing, including her friend Margaery. "Yes, she is extremely dangerous now that she has nothing left to lose but the throne. But she is completely alone. She has lost Dorne, the Reach, the North, and the Eyrie. All she still holds outside of the Westerlands and the Crownlands, are the Stormlands, which has no real ruling House. The Riverlands are still under contest, and there's talk that the Lannisters had Walder Frey and his sons murdered, so they may break with her as well. She's shifted too many of her forces to King's Landing to protect herself, and it wouldn't surprise me if she's left Casterly Rock largely undefended. Her days are numbered."

"And what of my aunt, the Dragon Queen?"

"Well, if you don't actually want the Iron Throne, why not declare your parentage, and then declare your support for the Targaryen with the three giant dragons she's bringing to Westeros?" She had obviously already considered this option.

"It is said that your former husband is with her."

She smiled sadly at the memory of her first husband, the gentle Lord Tyrion. "Tyrion's a good man. He's not like his family, and he had no part in the Red Wedding. He killed Tywin; he in part avenged our family."

"You don't regret your marriage to him was annulled, do you?" he asked, surprised to hear her speak so warmly of a Lannister.

Sansa sighed. "I regret we were forced to marry at all, but he was very kind to me and did his best to protect me from his family, especially from Joffrey. I discovered later, though, he loved my handmaiden. She must have been terribly jealous. She even testified against him at his trial for killing Joffrey. Testified against me. I had no idea she begrudged me for my forced marriage, which had never even been consummated. He had been very protective of me. She had been so protective of me herself." She frowned at the thought of Shae, who she'd been quite fond of. She said quietly, "I hear he killed her too."

"I had thought much of Tyrion, after he accompanied us to the Wall, which no other highborn Lord had been willing to do. When he served as Joffrey's Hand, he had sent us additional men. I agree, he is far different from his treacherous family."

"I know Mother thought he had tried to kill Bran, but he assured me he had not. Someone in his family had tried to frame him for it though. It would seem they were always trying to be rid of him."

"I suppose that's why he finally betrayed them, killing Joffrey…"

"Oh, no, he didn't. That was Littlefinger, well, with a little help from the Queen of Thorns," she said, matter-of-factly.

"What? Why?" he said, surprised at this bit of information.

"Just another move in his game for the Iron Throne. So far, there are plenty of players lost."

"He just has to outlive us all, is that it?"

She smiled warmly. "Well, some of us are hard to kill."

"Aye," he chuckled, patting his chest.

Finishing his wine and pouring them both another glass, he asked, "Do you really think we should reveal the truth about my parents? Will anyone even believe it?"

She considered for a moment, swirling the red liquid around in her glass. "There is at least one person who could give testimony, and he's one of our bannermen."

Jon thought for a moment. "Howland Reed. Would he be willing to come to Winterfell?"

"I think we need to make it clear his presence is absolutely required by his King. He didn't come with the other lords when called. In fact, I don't even know of a time he's come to Winterfell. I've never seen the man."

"Now that we have some clues about where Bran and the Reed children might have gone, I've organized a large search party. It's set to leave for Castle Black the morning after next. They will deliver the prisoners we've permitted to take the black, and then search the area south of the Wall. I've sent a raven to Edd to ask that any rangers be on the lookout for signs of them. Perhaps Howland Reed will come for the sake of his children, if not to answer questions about the Tower of Joy."

"Then we will wait to say anything to any of the other lords," she nodded.

"But you really believe we should?" Jon asked, still feeling dread at the thought of officially being the son of Rhaegar Targaryen.

"I do." She grabbed his hand, "I know this is hard for you. I can only imagine how I'd feel if I found out I wasn't Ned and Catelyn's daughter."

He looked down at her hand, soft, delicate and pale, but still warm and strong. "You never really considered me your brother," he said.

She looked stricken with shame. "Oh, Jon, I'm sorry. I know I was terrible to you when we were children, but…"

"It's okay. There's nothing to forgive. But you were right; I was no more your brother than… than Theon Greyjoy. Maybe you just always knew."

"I knew nothing. I was an awful, snobbish brat," she frowned.

He laughed. "And I did nothing but brood."

She chuckled. "You did a fair amount of it, yes. But you always had a smile for our brothers and sister. And for Father." She smiled sadly. "I don't suppose I ever gave you any reason to smile."

He squeezed her hand. "You do now, Sansa. You're the only reason I have to smile now."

She beamed at him, and then she moved her chair around the table so she could lay her head against his chest, and wrapped her arms around him. He squeezed her tightly and kissed the top of her auburn hair.

The thought occurred to him that perhaps this was no longer appropriate between them. It wasn't his sister in his embrace, it was his cousin. In his arms was a highborn lady, alone in his bedchambers. The idea of turning her away, however, was too sad for him to consider. She was the only family he had left, and he didn't realize until she had showed up at Castle Black how much he had missed the loving embrace of his family. The kind hands of his father, or rather his uncle, giving him a proud pat on the back when he had bested Robb or Theon in training. When his siblings, or rather his cousins, were little, he would hold them and carry them around. Particularly little Arya had spent a lot of time in his arms, time he spent comforting her because the boys had run her off and left her out of their games, or she was in trouble with their Septa again, or she had been fighting with Sansa. Gods, how he missed Arya. He could never think of her as anything but his sister, no matter what his true parentage was, she was always his sister.

But what was Sansa? He loved her, yes. He felt closer to her now than he ever had as a child. In truth, as children he'd had no real love for her at all, other than one of duty. He would still have given his life to save her from the Lannisters, from the Boltons, because she was his father's daughter. But now, he loved her deeply. Even so, he knew it was different than how he loved Arya. This was a love that had been grown, not the easy one that came from the bonds of a protective older sibling. He knew that she never truly believed him to be her brother, whether she would admit it or not. Instead, their love grew as they finally began to know one another, and only now, trusting one another. He didn't want to lose that now that they knew they weren't brother and sister after all.

"Jon?" she murmured against his chest.

"Mmm hmm," he said into her hair.

"Surely there are other things that make you smile."

"Like what?"

She grinned up at him, mischievously. "Like that look on Tormund's face when he eats while staring at Brienne…"

Jon laughed. "He may have bedded a she-bear, but I don't think he'll fare quite as well with the fair Maid of Tarth."

"He what?" she squealed. She erupted into laughter as he told her the story of Tormund and Shella, the bear.

"Keep in mind, it's entirely likely the story isn't true at all. That's what Ygritte thought, at least," he grinned.

"Ygritte. That's the girl you broke your vows for," she said, her eyebrows raised.

A wave of emotion ran across his face.

"I'm sorry, Tormund had told me. But if it's painful to speak of her…"

"No, no, I'd like to tell you about her," he said, finishing another glass of wine.

"Please do. I'd like to hear about her," she said, refilling his glass and her own.

"Her hair was like yours… 'kissed by fire' they called it…"

They spent the entire night talking, alternating between the joyful stories and tragic ones. From Jon's time beyond the Wall with the wildlings, to his love affair with Ygritte, the events from her death to his own. From Sansa's time at King's Landing, watching Father die, tormented by Joffrey, married to Tyrion, her friendship with Margaery, her escape arranged by Littlefinger after Joffrey's death, her time at the Eyrie, the death of her deranged aunt, her marriage to Ramsay, her rape and torture. They told one another things they had never told anyone else. They reminisced about their lost family members, telling stories that made them alternate between laughter and tears, and often both at once. Exhausted, they both fell asleep only an hour before dawn, in front of the fire, underneath Jon's furs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The weeks had passed quickly, with everyone working hard to prepare for the long winter, and the battles to come. There had not been time for rumination about Jon's secret heritage, but they had sent word that Howland Reed's presence was required by his King.

Three ravens came on the same day.

The first was from Pyke. Yara Greyjoy was crowned Queen of the Iron Islands. Her uncle had been defeated handily. Queen Yara had declared her loyalty to another queen however – the Dragon Queen. She wrote to every surviving house asking they bend the knee to Daenerys and denounce Cersei.

So, it was hardly surprising that the second raven was from the Dragon Queen's Hand, Sansa's own former husband.

Tyrion wished to convene a meeting between his Queen and "the King in the North." Sansa noticed right away that Tyrion had not disputed the title, but rather, seemed to give it deference. Would the Dragon Queen permit autonomy in the Seven Kingdoms? She had allowed Yara to retain the title of Queen, while swearing fealty to the Targaryen Queen. Would she allow Jon the same courtesy? Tyrion, in his usual good humor, had also expressed his affection for his "beloved former lady wife."

The third, much to Jon's displeasure, was a raven from Howland Reed. He would arrive in Winterfell within a fortnight. Which meant he would forgo the meeting with the Dragon Queen at Bear Island.

"I don't trust that it will be safe, Sansa. I don't want you to go without me," Jon paced the floor.

"Brienne will be there. And Ser Davos," she said. "Besides, Tyrion would never allow me to be harmed."

"I don't trust the Dragon Queen," he frowned. "She killed her brother and her husband."

"I killed my husband," she replied, snappily.

"That was different," he defended.

"How do you know? He was a Dothraki horse lord, maybe he was as cruel as Ramsay. And her brother sold her to him," she said, her arms folded in defiance. She wasn't sure why she was defending the Targaryen Queen, other than a sense of solidarity with another noblewoman abused by cruel men.

"Yeah, well, you've kept Littlefinger alive," he grumbled. Littlefinger had continued his pursuit of Sansa, even after his return to the Eyrie.

"Because so far he's been useful," she retorted.

"And what if the Dragon Queen and your former husband find you aren't useful? Ser Davos and even Lady Brienne can hardly protect you from dragon fire."

"Oh, but you could? Jon, I need to do this, we need this alliance. You need to be here to continue our work, and wait for Howland Reed. Also, as Father always said, there must always be a Stark in Winterfell."

"Well, I'm hardly a Stark anyway," he said, brooding.

"You're as much Stark as I am, _Cousin_ ," she said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

"I could command you not to go, you know," he said, as she left his chambers.

"Yes, but you're a much wiser king than that, Your Grace," she said with a knowing smile, and closed the door behind her.

He huffed and continued writing on the parchment. "…if there is a way to stop the Night's King with dragon fire, we must know…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sansa hadn't known what to expect when she arrived at Bear Island. She was greeted by Lady Mormont, who curtsied properly to her Princess in the North, before Sansa warmly embraced her despite the girl's obvious discomfort. The fierce young maid had grown taller since they'd parted ways weeks ago at Winterfell.

"My Lady," Sansa greeted her, sparing her the small talk she knew she loathed. "Tell me, when will the Dragon Queen arrive?"

"Her fleet is only two days away, we received the raven yesterday. My maester is gravely concerned about the security issues this meeting presents, but truly, I can hardly contain myself at the prospect of having three dragons on Bear Island," Lyanna Mormont gave Sansa the smallest of grins.

"I wonder if she'll arrive atop of one. Reports from Mereen say she was attacked by rebels and she flew away riding her dragon, burning them all with dragon fire," Sansa told her, reveling in the drama of it all.

"I wonder if she'd let us ride one?" Lyanna said, her smile spread wide across her face.

"I say we insist as part of our negotiations!" Sansa laughed, and surprisingly, the serious Lady Lyanna of House Mormont heartily joined in.

It was good to see the young girl laugh, nearly as good as it felt to laugh herself. It helped quell the nervousness she felt at this meeting, the anxiety over Jon's upcoming exposure of his true paternity, and the threats that always lingered ever since Father was executed at King's Landing. It was those precious moments where she could just be a young maid again, a refuge from the dark reality where she was far from an innocent young maid. She thought it was just as unfair for Lyanna to have lost her innocence so young as well. Although she had been through far worse, and was older than Lyanna, they lived in a world where children's innocence was just another casualty of the ongoing wars. Wherever her remaining brother and sister might be, she knew there would be no innocence there either.

"My Lady, there is something I must inform you of, before the Dragon Queen arrives. His Grace will be meeting with one of our bannermen, Howland Reed, likely any day now."

"Of Greywater Watch? Has there been word of your brother Brandon, Your Highness? Or of Lord Reed's children?"

"No, although there is a search party that was dispatched. We pray they will be found safe," she said. "But we summoned Lord Reed for another reason. How familiar are you with the story of your namesake, and her death in the Tower of Joy?"

"Only that your Lord Father found her dead, after he and Howland Reed defeated the remainder of Rhaegar's kingsguard."

Sansa filled her in on their discovery in the crypt, and how they needed the only eye witness to the event to confirm the etching on the tomb, a story she had only disclosed to Ser Davos, Lady Brienne and Tormund during their trip to Bear Island, with Jon's permission.

"Do you plan to tell this to the Dragon Queen?" Lyanna asked.

"Only if we can confirm the story through Lord Reed's testimony. If so, then Jon intends to declare his parentage, but abdicate his place as the heir to the Iron Throne in favor of his aunt. We hope that will allow us to form an alliance and secure her aid in the war to come."

"What if she sees him as a threat anyway, and just feeds him to her dragons?" she asked, ever astute and blunt.

"Well, I suppose then we'll test the theory of whether Targaryens are really immune to dragon fire or not," Sansa said darkly. She couldn't guarantee that Jon would not be viewed as a rival, despite refusing his place as heir.

* * *

When the Dragon Queen arrived, Sansa was breathing deeply to keep from trembling. Ser Davos and Lady Brienne stood behind her and to her left, with Tormund behind them. On her right was the far more composed Lady Mormont.

Once introductions were made, it was Tyrion who came forward and spoke first. Sansa blinked away tears she felt threatening to swell in her eyes. As he came forward, he astutely noticed the uncharacteristic emotion on her face, and put on a broad smile.

"My beloved Lady Wife! I do hope you can forgive my sudden departure from King's Landing, I found myself riding in a crate on a ship bound for Essos. I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere within the Tower of the Hand," he grinned.

"My Lord Husband, there is nothing to forgive. I too took a similar wrong turn, and found myself a guest of the Eyrie. My condolences on the sudden death of your Lord Father."

"Ah, yes, it was a tragedy. That and the death of our beloved King Joffrey," he panned, fawning heartbreak with a hand on his heart. "Fortunately, our true Queen is willing to forgive my part in the former, and clear our wrongful convictions in the latter."

He was rewarded with a smile from his former wife.

"In all seriousness, my Princess, I am sincerely gladdened to find you well and returned to your home as Lady of Winterfell and Wardeness of the North."

"Thank you, My Lord," she said, sincerely. "I am also glad to see you are well."

"I ask for the pleasure of your company once we convene here, Your Highness."

"Of course, My Lord," she replied.

"For now, Princess, I expect my Queen wishes to be heard."

"My Lord Hand is correct, although I do not begrudge him his happy reunion," the Queen said, giving a small smile. "I thank you, Lady Mormont, for hosting us. I know that Winter has come, and do not wish to pose a hardship upon your house."

"Your Grace, we are most honored by your presence at Bear Island," Lady Mormont replied.

"I must admit I am disappointed the King in the North could not be here," she said to Sansa.

Sansa inhaled deeply. "As he wrote, my brother regrets he could not travel as well, but he gives to me the authority to negotiate any agreements between House Stark and House Targaryen, and we look forward to hosting you, Your Grace, in our home at Winterfell."

"Diplomacy is not why I was eager to meet him."

"It is not, Your Grace?"

"No. I am eager to meet him to see if my advisor tells it true," she gestured at Lord Varys.

"I am sorry, Your Grace, I do not understand," she replied.

"Lord Varys has told me a story of a babe born in a tower, raised as the bastard son of a highborn lord, to save his life from the Usurper Robert…"

Sansa held her face, but felt her heart beating out of her chest.

"I suspect you are already familiar with this story," Daenerys stated, studying her face.

Sansa decided lying to the Dragon Queen was imprudent. "Only recently, but we cannot confirm it. Father never told us…"

"Your Lord Father was an honorable man," Tyrion said gently. "He made a promise to your Aunt Lyanna."

"He kept his promise," Sansa whispered.

"What I want to know is whether my nephew intends to seek the Iron Throne for himself," Daenerys stated firmly.

"No, Your Grace. My brother… cousin… Jon… he is an honorable man, much like my father. He never sought power, and he does not seek it now. He was selected as the youngest Lord Commander of the Night's Watch because he is brave and strong, put up for the vote by one of his brothers of the Watch. When he was betrayed by a group of his own men, it was because he had made a decision they hated him for – to make allies with the wildlings, rather than leave them to die at the hands of a greater enemy," her voice swelled with pride for him as she continued. "He did not wish to be king. I am the natural heir to Winterfell; if there was to be another regent, I could have sought the crown. He would have wholeheartedly backed me for it. But that's exactly why he deserved to be king, because he would always put the needs of others above his own."

She took a deep breath before she continued. "Your Grace, Jon does not want to sit the Iron Throne. He wants only to protect our people from the war that is coming. Not with Cersei, or with any other House, but with the Night's King, who would bring eternal winter and death to all of Westeros if given the chance. We must come together and defeat our common enemy."

"The Night's King is just a story," Tyrion frowned.

Varys said softly, "Not according to the soothsayers or the Red Priestesses, my Lord."

"Surely you don't believe in these tales meant to scare young children?" he said, looking at Varys with surprise.

"The dead rise north of the Wall, Hand of Dragon Queen," Tormund spoke up. "The Free Folk would never have joined up with the Crows, fought for the castle of a Crow, over a children's tale. We don't believe things we don't see for ourselves, and we've seen the horrors that walk in the North. Jon Snow fought the dead with us at the Battle of Hardhome, and all of us there saw when our people were lost, they rose to become soldiers for the Night's King. The army of the dead is growing stronger as our numbers grow weaker."

"My Queen, my friend Tormund here leads the Free Folk, whom we commonly call 'wildlings,' and he speaks truly. The men of the Night's Watch confirm these happenings, and it poses a great threat to us all," Ser Davos said.

"Your Grace, my brother and I entreat you to continue your travels to the mainland and be guests at Winterfell. We must band together to reinforce the Wall and protect Westeros. Cersei sits on a throne that does not belong to her. But she is the least of what threatens your kingdom, my Queen. Jon has been named King in the North, and it is possible he is being given testimony that will prove his parentage as a legitimate Targaryen, that will prove he is your nephew, Your Grace. He will gladly lead the forces of the North to rid King's Landing of the remaining Lannisters, avenge your family, and see you seated upon the Iron Throne. But first, we must defeat the enemy that comes for us all, or there will be no kingdom to rule."

"I appreciate your conviction, Princess Sansa, and I will take this threat under advisement." Daenerys said. "I intend to visit Winterfell, as you offered, in order to meet this Jon Snow."

"Jon's mother named him 'Jaehaerys Targaryen,' for your great-grandfather," Sansa said. "It is customary in the North to commission gravestones for the males upon their births. My father broke from tradition to also include the girls, after he had a tomb built for Jon's mother. When we buried our brother Rickon after the Battle for Winterfell, we found not only Rickon's tomb, but Jon's as well. That is when we discovered what Father had carved into the stone."

"There has been so much loss," Daenerys frowned. "My condolences for the loss of your brother, Rickon. But it must also be hard to have, on the same day, lost another brother as well."

Sansa was taken aback by the question. "To be honest, My Queen, I love Jon no less than I did when I thought him my brother. I know Jon feels the loss of his identity, the loss of his family, but it could not be farther from the truth. Stark blood runs through his veins, and no matter who sired him, his true father was Ned Stark. But, he needs you, My Queen. He needs to know how to also be a Targaryen. Fire and blood, your house words."

The Queen smiled. "He's both fire and ice."

* * *

They soon adjourned to retire to their respective chambers. Sansa, however, went to visit her former husband in his chambers, at his request.

"I suppose this is unseemly, now that we are no longer wed," Tyrion commented, as she had a seat at the small table in his room. He poured her a glass of wine.

She frowned. "You must hate me, my Lord."

He looked at her with tenderness. "Never, my sweet. On the contrary, I have only great affection for you." After a few moments, he continued carefully. "I only wish I could have protected you, from Joffrey, my Father, Cersei, and most of all, Littlefinger and Bolton's deranged bastard."

She swallowed a large gulp of wine. "It was arrogant of me to believe it beneath me to have wed you, my Lord. I will forever regret my coldness towards you."

"Sansa," he said, kindly. "You may be a woman now, but when we were forced to wed, you were but a child. You need not apologize. You deserve a brave, handsome lord as husband, who is as kind as he is valiant. I am none of those things, but a lord."

"Tyrion," she said, reaching for his hand. "You are all of those things. I am ashamed that it took being married to Ramsay Bolton to realize your worth in contrast."

"Bolton's bastard was truly as bad as they say?" he asked.

"Worse," she said, finishing her wine.

He nodded. "Then I only wish he could die a thousand more deaths to pay for his crimes against you."

"As do I," she said. "I am sorry about Myrcella and Tommen. They were good and kind."

"It pains me greatly. They were truly the only good that came from Cersei. It hurts even worse to look upon those retched Sand Snakes, knowing what they did to Myrcella. But for the good of the Queen, I cannot avenge her death. I leave that to my brother, should he have the chance."

"I mourn for Margaery and Loras as well. So many others. The Sept of Baelor…"

"Cersei has become the Mad Queen, and she will not sit that throne for long once we arrive in King's Landing," he smiled.

"You have risen high, my Lord. From being convicted of regicide to Hand of the Queen. You deserve the honor," she smiled.

"Sansa," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You could come with us to King's Landing. Be my wife, truly this time. I know I have no right to ask you, nothing to offer you…"

"Oh, Tyrion," she said, smiling. "You have so much to offer. So much I was foolish to refuse. And if I could stomach being in that retched city, I would be proud to be your wife. But Winterfell is my home, and I don't intend to leave it again. I make the same offer to you, to join me in Winterfell as my husband, be Lord of Winterfell."

"Oh, my sweet," he kissed the palm of her hand. "If I were a man worthy of you, I would do exactly that."

"Ambition does not make you unworthy, Tyrion," she said. "Your ambition, and your loyalty, will serve the kingdom well. You will be a tremendous ruler on behalf of the Queen."

"It does leave me lonely, however," he lamented.

"You won't be lonely for long, I expect," she smiled.

"The brothels of King's Landing have missed me and my coin, I suppose!" he laughed. "Although not nearly as much as they've missed my squire Podrick, I fear."

"Oh! Podrick is here, you must go see him. He is tending to the horses at the stables," she said. "He has missed you greatly, although Lady Brienne has been glad to have him as her squire."

"Pod! I shall take myself to the stables then, be certain the lad has been well-trained," he teased.

Sansa grabbed his hand as he rose from the table. "I never said it, but, thank you, Tyrion."

"For what, my sweet?"

"For being kind in a place where kindness was only a weakness. You are one of the bravest men I know," she said.

She kissed him chastely on his lips, running her hand across his scar.

"My sweet, your kiss makes a man forget his ambitions," he said, running a loose strand of her red hair between his fingers.

She laughed.

"Come, Princess, you can escort me to the stables," he said, kissing her hand. "I hope Pod's grown fonder of me in my absence, or I expect I've lost my squire for good to the Lady of Tarth."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Howland Reed entered the gates of Winterfell as though the courtyard were filled with ghosts. His childhood memories made his throat catch with sadness. He also knew, in no uncertain terms, that his beloved son was lost to him forever, yet another ghost who had walked this courtyard. He hadn't wanted to come. But if there was hope for Meera's return…

"My Lord," Jon said, greeting him warmly. Lord Reed started to bend a knee, but Jon stopped him. "Please, you were a dear friend of my father's. There's no need for such formalities."

"Your father… he was a good man," Lord Reed said, clearing his throat.

"Come, let us get you something warm to eat and drink, your journey was long," Jon said, leading him to the banquet hall.

Once he had been served, Jon ordered the servants to leave them, and to shut the doors.

"Has there been word of Meera and Bran?"

"No, I'm afraid not yet," Jon replied. He frowned. "Why do you not ask after your son as well?"

Howland Reed took a long drink of the warm cider. "I already know my son is dead. I felt it the moment it happened."

Jon looked at the man, really looked at him. He seemed to be aging faster than his father had been last he saw him, though they were the same age. How did he know Jojen was dead?

"I know things, Jon. The gift of the greensight is of the North. My son had it. Your brother Bran has it. You though…"

"Well, he's not my brother, though, is he?" Jon said, frankly.

Lord Reed frowned. "I didn't expect your father would have told you before he died. He promised Lyanna…"

"He didn't tell me," Jon said, explaining the crypt.

Lord Reed nodded. "He intended to tell you when it no longer mattered. When you'd taken your vows and your Targaryen blood would've meant nothing as a man of the Night's Watch. But now it means something. You cheated death, and now you're a Targaryen. Will you be seeking the Iron Throne… my king?"

"No. My place is here, in Winterfell, protecting the North from the war to come. Not against Cersei or the Dragon Queen but against the dead."

"Good lad. You are your father's son," he nodded.

"Which one?" Jon asked ruefully.

"Both," the older man smiled sadly.

Jon took a deep breath then asked quietly, "What were they like, my parents?"

"Your mother was exquisite," Lord Reed said, smiling softly. He told the story of the Tourney of Harrenhall, and of the mysterious knight who had avenged his honor.

"My mother did that?" he asked, astounded.

"She was wild and beautiful. That's why Robert wanted her, among others. That's why Rhaegar fell in love with her."

"But why did she fall in love with him?"

"How do you know she did?" Lord Reed asked, curious.

"She married him. She gave me a Targaryen name. He was dead by then. She could have named me of the North, but she didn't. She gave me a name Rhaegar would have been proud of. So she loved him."

"You're an astute lad."

He shook his head. "Not me. Sansa. She's far more insightful than me, My Lord."

"The Lady Sansa, then, most astute. Yes, Lyanna… she most certainly loved him. She hadn't been kidnapped after all. Of course, we didn't know that until your father… your uncle… entered the Tower of Joy just after your birth… just before she died."

Jon frowned. "You were there. I need your testimony, that I am Lyanna's son, the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen."

"Why, if you do not intend to take the Iron Throne?"

"I need to unite Westeros. I need the Dragon Queen's support. I need as much power concentrated to fight what's coming, because the dead are coming."

"You're correct about that as well. Yes, if that is what you require of me, I will swear to what I saw at the Tower of Joy. But, Jon… my King… I beg you to tread carefully. The man you called Father, your uncle Ned, was the best of men. It was his honor and loyalty that brought him to serve Robert when he should have stayed in Winterfell, to show mercy for Cersei and her children when he should have delivered them to the executioner. Jon, Ned's honor…" he sighed, before continuing. "Had I the honor of Ned Stark, we'd both have perished at the Tower of Joy. Don't give your enemies any courtesy. We are fighting for the very existence of the living. It is no time to put honor above survival. That goes for your enemies beyond the wall, and those within."

"I thank you, Lord Reed, for your counsel. My sis… cousin… Sansa… she has given the same counsel concerning the Lannisters. I do not intend to let them do to me what they have done to my father and my brother."

"Your enemies are not just the Lannisters, my King. I could not help but notice the presence of the Knights of the Vale."

"Yes, were it not for the Vale, we would have lost to Ramsay Bolton."

"Indeed. But I expect you understand that Littlefinger is not to be trusted?"

"I have been informed of that as well."

"Ned never trusted him, even though your Aunt Catelyn thought very highly of him."

"He rescued Sansa from King's Landing, and saved us from Bolton, but I cannot forgive that he delivered Sansa to the Boltons to begin with. If he thinks he will wed Sansa, he is sorely mistaken."

"That may prove yet to be a problem, my King. He is in a far better position now than when he was dueling your uncle for Lady Catelyn's hand. Perhaps arranging another marriage for Princess Sansa soon would solve this problem."

He sighed. "I cannot. Sansa has been through too much already. Bolton treated her quite cruelly. I won't send her away again."

"What about a lesser lord? A younger son, perhaps, who would find it a fortunate match to become Lord of Winterfell."

"I imagine Sansa will want that, eventually," he frowned.

A knock came at the door. "Enter."

"I apologize for interrupting, Your Grace, My Lord Reed. But a raven has arrived from Bear Island," the man bowed, and handed Jon the parchment.

Jon examined the seal, noting it was from Sansa.

 _Your Grace,_

 _We leave this day for Winterfell, and bring with us our new allies. Your aunt wishes to know her nephew._

 _Princess Sansa of House Stark_

The letter was guarded in case of interception, but was pointed: Daenerys knew of his parentage and had accepted it. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"I will stay, then, until the Dragon Queen arrives, to give my testimony," Lord Reed nodded.

"I apologize for taking up so much of your time, My Lord, and I am grateful for your presence and counsel," Jon said.

"I am glad to finally share Lyanna's secret. She would be so proud of you, as would Ned and Rhaegar. The pride a parent takes in his child's accomplishments is like none other…" Lord Reed trailed off, overcome with emotion.

"We will keep looking for them, we will find them," Jon said, quietly, knowing the man was thinking of his lost children.

"Meera is all I have left now that Jojen is lost," he said sadly.

Jon still didn't know what to make of the man's prediction as to his son's death, but all he could offer was the comfort that Jon had dispatched soldiers to the Wall to both serve as reinforcements, and to search for Bran.

Once Lord Reed had left, Jon stopped to consider what would come next. A meeting with his aunt, the Dragon Queen. Hosting the Imp, the Spider, the Queen of Thorns, and the Sand Snakes. Not to mention the Queen's foreign entourage, of Dothraki and Unsullied. Would his aunt insist he relinquish the title of King? He suspected not, since Sansa's letter was signed with the title of Princess. But what price would the Queen insist upon for an alliance? He frowned. Surely Lord Tyrion wouldn't insist on renewing his marriage with Sansa. He couldn't bear to part with Sansa, to send her off to King's Landing and wed a Lannister. Or some other Targaryen ally. He wonders, however, if that would be the Queen's price, to hold Sansa hostage in King's Landing. He wouldn't allow her to be taken away from her home again, even if Sansa had begrudgingly agreed to such terms to ensure an alliance.

He hadn't stopped to consider, however, that it might not be Sansa who would end up sold in marriage, but he himself. The Targaryens wed brother to sister, a nephew to aunt would not be so far-fetched. Then it would be he who would have to again leave his home, be consort to a woman who killed her last husband, and her own brother. He shuddered at the thought.

What was it that Lord Reed had said, however? That he must do whatever it takes to win this war. He sighed. Lord Reed was right. If having the support of the Dragon Queen to fight the threat beyond the Wall meant a loveless marriage for himself or for Sansa, they must do whatever it takes. As King it was his duty, as was Sansa's duty as Princess.

He thought of Ygritte with her red hair and fiery spirit. He'd had love once, ever so briefly. He did not expect to love again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"They'll arrive any moment, Jon, what are you doing?"

"Just finishing this parchment to send to Sam at the Citadel. In case I end up a dragon's dinner tonight, I wanted to give final instructions to Sam."

"First of all," Sansa sighed, gesturing with his crown she held in her hands, "You are not getting eaten. You are the blood of the dragon. Dragons marry their own, they don't eat their own."

He frowned at that.

"Second, you aren't the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch any longer. Whatever orders go to Samwell Tarley, they aren't yours to give."

"I'm still the king."

"Tell that to the Queen you're about to receive," she said, placing the crown on his messy head of dark curls.

"And where's your crown, anyway, Princess?"

Sansa smiled. "You haven't worked that out quite yet, have you?"

"Worked out what?"

"When we reveal your true parentage, I'm no longer the Princess in the North."

Jon stared at her blankly as she rolled up his parchment and sealed it for him.

"I'm not the King's sister. I'm the King's cousin. I'm not the Princess. House Targaryen will rule the North, not House Stark."

His face dropped. "Sansa… I'm sorry."

"Jon, don't be. Once we make the announcement to the Court, I will resume my role as Lady of Winterfell, but the crown will be reserved for your lady wife," she said without emotion.

He scowled. "I'm not taking a wife. Not yet, anyway."

She smiled at him with pity. "It may become necessary to unite the kingdom. Not doing his duty cost our brother his life at the hands of his betrayers. He followed his heart instead of his head, and he lost everything. If duty dictates a marriage…"

He nodded. "I just never expected this to be my duty."

She smirked at him. "Right. Only us trueborn children, daughters particularly, had to be married off in terrible matches for political gains."

"Sansa, I promise you, I won't…"

"Don't promise it, Jon. You can't. If you need an alliance, and marrying me off will achieve it, then it's what has to be done," she said firmly, meeting his eye. "You're my king, and I will gladly do my duty."

The knock on the door meant the Dragon Queen had arrived.

* * *

The scene reminded Sansa of the fateful day they had received Robert and Cersei, so many years ago. Sansa and Jon were the only Starks remaining, however, to greet the Dragon Queen.

Jon had to admit, his aunt was strikingly beautiful. Her white hair glistened in the winter sunlight, snow fluries blending into the locks. Up ahead, her dragons circled the sky, an awe-inspiring sight. He wished Sam could be there to see them.

"My Queen, our Maester at the Night's Watch was a Targaryen, Aemon was his name. He recently passed away, having served the Watch for many decades. My only regret is he did not live long enough to see the dragons his niece brought to life."

"I look forward to hearing your stories of Aemon Targaryen. I long to hear stories of my lost family. Yourself in particular, Nephew."

"Come, My Queen, you must be tired from your journey. A feast has been planned in your honor for this evening, but I expect you wish to rest beforehand. Lady Sansa will show you to your rooms, My Queen."

It was later that afternoon that the unexpected arrival of Lord Baelish was announced at the gate. Had Jon been at the gate at the time, he would have left the entry barred. He assumed one of the Knights of the Vale still present at Winterfell had tipped Littlefinger off as to the expected arrival of the Dragon Queen.

Despite his best attempts, Littlefinger was unable to gain an audience with Sansa before the feast began. Sansa remained at the Dragon Queen's disposal, directing attendants to assist, and providing her and her ladies with attire for the feast. During her time spent at Bear Island, she found she was quite fond of Daenerys. She wasn't warm and welcoming like Margaery had been, or as exceptionally refined as Cersei. Daenerys, however, was far more reserved. She was obviously very close to her attendant, Missandei, who was equally reserved in nature. Sansa wondered if it was her foreign upbringing, or if she was just wary of a member of a rival family – whose father had helped defeat her father and depose her family. But the more time she spent with her, she understood. Daenerys took the role of queen very seriously, and the responsibility of controlling three dangerously large dragons. She genuinely wanted to be a good queen, to do what was best for her people. This was in stark contrast to Margaery, whose charity was largely a political calculation, and Cersei, who had no love of the people, only her own power. This responsibility made her more serious. In rare unguarded moments, when she allowed herself moments of youthful joy, though still quite restrained, Sansa found her magnificent. Although Sansa was not really any younger than her, she felt she had a lot to learn from her. She had always viewed her role as Lady of a great ancient house mostly as a way to support her future husband. With Jon ruling the North, and possibly called to King's Landing to serve the Queen, she would be required to step up as Lady of Winterfell. She would need to manage the castle, the lands, the people - with so many responsibilities to so many people. She was grateful to know that the Queen she would serve, as well as her good and honorable cousin, would be supportive.

The banquet hall was packed with the noble men and women of the North, as well as Knights of the Vale, several of her cousin Robert Arron's bannermen and their wives, and even a few rogue lords of the Riverlands. The hall grew silent at the sight of the silver-haired Targaryen queen.

Jon stood to speak.

"My Lords and Ladies. It is my great honor to be here this evening to host Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen, who is the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. She has brought magic back to Westeros, her dragons fly overhead. She protects us from the threats beyond the Wall. And she will remove the false queen from the Iron Throne.

"But I have another announcement, my Lords and Ladies. Lord Howland Reed is here this evening to give testimony. As you well know, Lord Reed was with our Lord Eddard Stark at the Tower of Joy…"

Howland Reed spoke at length as to the events that occurred the day of Jon Snow's birth, ending with the shocking revelation that Jon Snow was the legitimate son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen.

It didn't take long before Littlefinger spoke, already trying to sow discord. "Then, My King, you are the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms."

"I acknowledge that I am the natural and legitimate heir of Rhaegar Targaryen. That may put me in line for the throne, yes, if I could recover it from Cersei. But I do not wish to sit the Iron Throne. There is only one regent who should sit that throne, the only one who can not only conquer King's Landing and reunite the Seven Kingdoms, but those lands beyond that she has already conquered. Daenerys of House Targaryen is our rightful Queen."

"You expect us to back a Targaryen over a Northman for the throne? Perhaps you really aren't a Stark at all!" another Lord shouted.

"My Lords and Ladies, please," Dany spoke finally. "I am aware of the plight you face in the North, with the coming of the White Walkers from the other side of the Wall. It is not just your fight, it is our fight. And as King Jon has spoken, he is dedicated to serving you, in the North, while I work to unite the Seven Kingdoms once more."

"How can we possibly trust a Targaryen?" a Lord shouted.

"Yes, indeed. We would be better served by a true Stark as regent," another shouted. Littlefinger smirked.

"Such as me?" Sansa rose from her chair, her cheeks flushed in anger. "Would you crown me instead of Jon, then?"

The lords mumbled.

"I thought not!" The anger in her swelled. "You shout about Stark blood, but you're happy to ignore mine because I am a woman. You ignore the same Stark blood that runs through Jon's veins because it didn't come from Ned Stark, it came from Lyanna. You disrespect your King in the North, you disrespect your rightful Queen, and you disrespect House Stark."

"With respect, My Lady, how are we ever supposed to trust a Targaryen as our King in the North?" another Lord asked.

"The same way you trusted a Stark with Tully blood, my brother, your fallen King Robb," she declared.

The Lords became loud and restless at that, and their angry murmurs became angry statements. Sansa closed her eyes and sighed. That was that then.

"You propose a marriage with your cousin, then, My Lady? To unite the North, between House Stark and House Targaryen?" Lady Lyanna asked. The two noblewomen exchanged a knowing glance.

"I…" Jon began, but was interrupted.

"Yes, a marriage between Sansa Stark and Jon Targaryen would unify the North," another lord agreed.

"But, I…" Jon attempted again, but was silenced.

The lords murmured their agreement to this plan.

Sansa happened to catch Littlefinger's eye, who was wearing a shocked expression. She was very pleased to have taken him by surprise. He flushed with cold anger as he understood her expression, one of smug satisfaction.

"Then it is settled," Daenerys said quickly. "We will unite House Targaryen with House Stark, as my brother had once intended. A union of Fire and Ice."

Jon looked at Sansa and was about to object, when she grabbed his hand and turned towards the crowd.

Jon and Sansa stood together, as the roar of the crowd went up.

* * *

The feast was a blur from that point forward. Sansa could not taste her food or her wine, and she danced by instinct, rather by intent. Jon looked completely shell-shocked, and scarcely spoke at all. Finally, after the Queen had retired, and the hall was mostly empty, did Jon escort her back to her room.

She opened her chamber door and led him inside.

"This is unseemly, My Lady. We are not wed," Jon said, glancing nervously down the hall.

"I doubt anyone will begrudge us our time together," Sansa said, closing the door behind him.

Now that they were finally alone, he demanded. "Why did you stop me from objecting? Do you really want this marriage between us to happen?"

Sansa sighed. "It makes sense. It unites the North behind you, and allows you to bend the knee to Daenerys without any sense of betrayal."

He shook his head, as though he could make it disappear. "We might only be cousins, but we were raised as…"

"You said so yourself, I never considered you my brother, not really. Tell me, do you love me the way you love Arya? The way a brother loves his little sister?"

He frowned, and shook his head. His chest hurt from the pain as he imagined mussing little Arya's hair, hugging her goodbye on the day he left for the Wall, the last time her saw her. He knew as soon as she asked, what the answer was. No, his love for Arya is very different.

"You've come to think of me as your cousin in these past few weeks, have you not? A relationship you've found far more comfortable than that of sister and brother. You've come to terms with who you really are."

"I suppose I have, but that doesn't mean..."

"Then, there's no dishonor in a marriage between us," she concluded.

Suddenly, realization hit him.

"You planned this! Again, with Lady Mormont!" he exclaimed, his anger rising at being excluded from her scheme.

"It was a backup plan, yes, although I had hoped the Northmen would back you without our marriage, leaving you free to marry of your own choice. It was previously discussed on Bear Island with Her Majesty. Am I wrong to believe you would prefer marriage to me, to your head on a pike, detached by your own bannermen? I don't suppose the Red Woman has the ability to reattach heads too, does she?" She frowned, unsure if his anger was about his exclusion or about their marriage, but it was starting to be contagious.

The jab had the expected effect of knocking the righteous anger from him.

She began again, softer. "I'm only trying to protect you and your position."

"I know," he said miserably.

"I would gladly have sold you to Lyanna, but she refused. She won't leave Bear Island. And she complained you're too pretty," she smiled, teasing.

He gave a small laugh. "But then why not tell me? Why hide it from me?" Jon asked, a hint of hurt in his voice.

"Because you're too damn honorable, Jon. You'd have refused me out of a sense of honor, to me, to our father. I am sorry to trap you, but it is really the only way to unite the North and reunite the Seven Kingdoms under the Dragon Queen."

"Is there honor in it though? Again, you're being forced into marriage as a political pawn." His anger was diffused, but his guilt was rising.

She shook her head. "This time I'm not being forced. I do it of my own accord."

"Do you?" he asked her, forcing himself to meet her gaze.

"Yes."

"And do you love me, as a wife loves a husband?" he asked, with pain in his eyes.

"I do love you, Jon. That is already more than my lady mother held for my father when they wed," Sansa said, softly.

"But chastely? As you once did Theon Greyjoy?"

"Jon, this is going to be an adjustment, but we have to do this. You may never love me the way you did Ygritte…"

"It's not about…"

"But I will be a good wife to you."

"I don't doubt that. I… doubt that I will be a good husband."

"You are kind, and gentle, and brave, all the things a Lord Husband should be."

"And sharing your bed? How do you feel about that?" he asked, pointedly.

"I feel that we should share your bed, because it is bigger," she answered evenly, meeting his gaze.

He laughed. "We're really going to do this, you and me? Marry someone I believed to be my sister until just a few weeks ago. I'm not a bloody Lannister."

"No, you're not. Because I'm not your sister. I'm your cousin, and now I will be your wife. You know that had your parents lived, and Robert's rebellion never succeeded, it is likely my father would have arranged our marriage, just as he had planned to do with Joffrey and I."

"And that was also a terrible idea."

"No, it wasn't. It was just that Joffrey was a terrible person."

"I'm not sure I'm a better match," he frowned.

"You are the best match I could hope for. Look, think about it. We secure the North, we make the kingdom safe, and we both get to stay at Winterfell. This is the best solution, the best outcome."

"To be married to me when you don't want to be?"

"Who says I don't want to be? Do you find me so undesirable? Could you not bed me?" she huffed, her cheeks flushed.

Jon frowned. "You're beautiful and of course I… would want to… but it's not _my_ desires I'm concerned with."

Sansa smiled warmly at him. Does he not realize how desirable he is? Looking at him, she was struck suddenly by how attractive he is. She took Jon's face in her hands. "I have no doubt we will find great pleasure in one another, my King. My Husband."

Jon couldn't help it. He didn't want to desire her, but there she was, calling him "husband," discussing their mutual pleasure, pulling him close. He leaned in to kiss her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

He had surprised himself by kissing her, and was even more surprised to find that he liked it. No, it didn't feel wrong at all, it didn't feel like he was kissing his sister at all. Instead, it felt perfect. It was her, Sansa. His family, his future wife. _When had this even happened_ , he wondered? When had he begun to fall in love with her?

He felt her fingers comb their way through his dark curls, and he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She moaned into his mouth, a sound which made his cock twitch in response. He let any remaining hesitation slip away as he embraced his fiancée.

Their kissing grew more passionate, more heated, until she pulled him towards the bed. Mesmerized by her touch, her scent, her taste, he found himself hovering over her in her bed. She looked up at him with lust in her eyes. Two husbands, but had she ever known pleasure? One had never touched her, and the other only ever used her and tortured her.

He slipped a hand up her thigh, her breathing heavy. He pushed aside the fabric of her small clothes and ran his fingers along her wet core. She moaned and whispered, "Oh, Jon...I need you."

He wanted to bury his cock inside her, to satisfy both their needs. But he couldn't. Not yet. She wasn't Ygritte; she was Sansa. She wasn't free to love whoever she wanted, when she wanted. Not yet anyway. Not until they were wed.

"Please, Jon..."

Pushing up her skirts and pulling down her small clothes, he buried his face into her instead. He loved the taste of her, the smell of her, running his tongue across her clitoris as he gently probed her with his fingers.

It didn't take her long to climax. She pulled a pillow over her own face to muffle the sounds of her passion, lest the guards hear her.

"Oh, Jon… that was… I never realized how good that could…" she gasped as her breathing returned to normal.

He lay beside her in the bed, gently caressing her, and running kisses across her neck and chest.

"I think we're going to have an amazing marriage, my King," she finally exhaled.

He laughed, and she joined in.

"I… I want to give you pleasure as well, Jon," she said suddenly, turning to look at him.

"Sansa, you don't have to… it wouldn't be seemly for a lady to…"

"To what? Please her future husband?" she said, kissing his neck and reaching for the laces on his britches. She ran a hand over the bulge in his pants. He moaned in response.

She removed his hard cock from his pants and took him into her mouth. She might be a lady, but she had heard her fair share of talk from other ladies and their handmaidens about how to please a man. And by the sounds he was making, she was fairly certain she was doing it correctly.

She was prepared for his climax, for the fluid he would ejaculate into her mouth, but not for the realization that it wasn't unpleasant at all. He lay limp in her bed, and she curled in beside him.

"This… is one of the better ideas you've had, I think," Jon said finally.

"Is it now?" she smiled. "So you aren't cross at me for plotting behind your back?"

"Well, I still wish you'd been honest with me, but I can't argue with the outcome."

"You believe you'll be satisfied with me as your wife?"

"Aye, I am quite satisfied right now."

"As am I, my King," she said, kissing him softly.

"Since you had already worked all of this out, how soon can we wed? I'm very much looking forward to it," he said, playing with a lock of her auburn hair.

"Me too," she smiled. "But not for another four months, I'm afraid. A year away from Bolton will quell any slander. We both know I'm not with child, but we can't have any talk that a child I might carry would be a Bolton and not a Targaryen."

He groaned. "No, certainly not."

"But that doesn't mean we can't enjoy our courtship in the meantime," she said, kissing him again, deeply.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Sansa awoke to find herself alone in the bed. She briefly wondered if it had just been a dream, her sexual encounter with Jon, but her state of undress, and smell of him still on her reassured her.

She hadn't expected his passion. She hadn't been honest with him when she'd told him the marriage was entirely to protect his claim. She had been afraid of his rejection if she told him the entire truth. Afraid it would drive him away. But she had been developing feelings for him since the first night they had stayed up all night talking after discovering his true identity. It was the first time she had viewed him as a man, not as her illegitimate brother, evidence of her father's shame and betrayal of their mother. Realizing that he wasn't even her brother made her completely reconsider him. He was still her family, her only family as far as she knew. Other than Uncle Edmure but she didn't expect him to be long for this world, in all honesty. Since Walder Frey and several of his sons were murdered, she expected Edmure would suffer the blame. With Bran and Arya missing, that left only Jon. And now he was about to become her family in an entirely different way. And all because the thought of him married to another Northern lady was unbearable, she had been surprised to find. She had kept that secret close to her chest, however, when seeking the support of both Lady Mormont and the Dragon Queen. Now, she was free to admit her love for Jon. And oh, how her love had grown.

She was appreciative at how last night had been the complete opposite of her previous sexual experiences, repeatedly being forced into the act by her cruel husband Ramsay Bolton. Society dictated that it was her duty to comply with her husband sexually, but when it happened, it hadn't felt as though she was providing fealty to her lord husband, as her lady mother and Septa had so long ago taught her. It just felt like a violation of her body, like he was just some brute forcing himself on her, instead of the promised holy union between husband and wife. It just felt like rape.

However, with Jon, she felt safe in his embrace. He was gentle and loving, even in his passion. She felt heat pool in her stomach thinking about his hands on her, his mouth on her. She had felt quite grateful for Ygritte in that moment; that he was obviously so experienced in giving pleasure must have been her doing. She knew, unlike Theon, that Jon never employed the services of whores. Robb had confided to her once that he himself was terrified of their lady mother's wrath, but otherwise would have been very interested. But Jon wouldn't even look at any of them. Jon didn't want to sire any bastards, he'd told her.

 _The wildlings must have moon tea_ , she suddenly thought. She hadn't heard anything about Jon siring a wildling bastard. She would have to find out.

That thought was interrupted by the knock on her door. Her lady's maid helped her bathe and dress, and she was ready to break her fast.

* * *

In the banquet hall, she found the others had all slept in, other than her sworn shield.

Lady Brienne rose to greet her in the hall.

"Lady Brienne, I trust you slept well?" Sansa asked.

"I did, I thank you, My Lady," Brienne replied, giving a curt bow.

"Could I ask a discreet favor of you?" she asked quietly, after the wait staff had walked away.

"Of course, My Lady."

"King Jon had a previous relationship with a wildling woman when he was beyond the wall, acting the spy. I need to know if he… sired any bastards with her," Sansa whispered. "I want to be clear, if he did, the child or children will be raised in the castle, and given the privileges of a king's children. I am not my lady mother, and I am certainly not Cersei."

"Understood, Your Highness. I will speak with Tormund immediately."

"Thank you, Brienne, but please, keep this between us, and ask Tormund to be discreet."

Sansa drank her tea as Brienne left, again wondering about the wildling's methods of preventing pregnancy. She was feeling especially grateful she'd had access to moon tea herself during her time with Ramsay. She'd secretly requested it from the Eyrie's maester, without Littlefinger's knowledge, when she realized his intention of arranging her marriage. She had not intended on the marriage lasting for very long, and Bolton children would have been an inconvenience in her taking back the North. She had intended to raise a coup from within Winterfell, but she had not anticipated Bolton holding her prisoner, making that an impossibility. She had been woefully unprepared for his cruelty and cunning. She certainly didn't make that mistake twice.

But now she had indebted them to Littlefinger, through her cousin Robert Arryn. Littlefinger had been the first to speak up, to try to cause trouble between Jon and Dany. She worried what trouble he might cause in the future. He wanted the iron throne for himself, and to do that, he needed Jon and Dany both out of the way, and he needed Sansa to give him the North. She hoped at this point he would continue to bide his time, wait to see if Jon and Dany were both killed in the wars to come. Because they couldn't afford his interference.

She thinks back to her desire to be Queen in the North. She had relinquished that dream when she realized that Jon could lead them to victory. But now, she would be crowned Queen.

She smiled contentedly into her tea cup as she looked across the room and caught Littlefinger staring daggers into her as he entered. No, he wouldn't just sit back and wait for the other contenders to die off, he would take an active part in making that happen. She knew he had made a grave mistake in sending the Knights of the Vale in before Jon could be killed by Bolton's men. She shuddered, knowing he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Tormund, it's Brienne, I need to speak with you," Brienne said, knocking on the door.

"Come in!" he shouted.

She opened the door and pulled it shut again behind her. She immediately gasped to find him completely naked in the bath.

She turned away in embarrassment. "You could have told me you weren't decent."

He laughed. "I make a point of never being decent, My Lady. You said you needed to speak to me. So, speak. All the better if you'd disrobe and join me." She groaned, but it didn't deter him. "This bath is delightful. Who knew the hot springs of Winterfell were so luxurious! If I'd known, I'd have bent the knee to the crows years ago."

She frowned. "I doubt your loyalty is so easily bought by some hot mineral water. I've seen how difficult it has been for you to leave the camps to accept a leadership position here in the castle. You're… an honorable man, Tormund."

He faltered. "Thank you for that, My Lady. Would you be so kind as to hand me that dressing robe? I will strive to make you more comfortable."

She nodded, and handed him his robe, turning around again so he could emerge. Once he was covered, he threw another log on the fire and pulled two chairs up in front of it. Brienne sat beside him.

"I do feel guilty for what I have here."

"You have it, because you deserve it. Your people are safe, warm and have full bellies at the beginning of winter, because of your leadership."

"We owe Jon a great deal of gratitude for that. We would be lost without his choice to let us past the wall."

"Jon's the reason I'm here, Tormund. I have a request from Sansa for information."

She explained Sansa's concern.

Tormund shook his head. "Not moon tea, no, we have a concoction of our own, but very effective. Our women only bear children when they wish. I hope we'll see more soon, when we're safe from what's beyond the wall."

"So, this Ygritte, she was never with child?"

"No, and even if she had been, she didn't live long enough to have borne Jon any children."

Brienne nodded.

"Sansa would have been kind to a child of Ygritte's? Welcomed it?"

"Yes, I do believe so. I think she realizes her lady mother's mistake. I know Lady Catelyn certainly did. She could never find it in her heart to forgive what she believed was her husband's unfaithfulness, and could not find a way to love Jon as her own son."

"Southerners put that much importance on fidelity?" he asked.

"Not all, I'm afraid. In fact, most noblemen seem to have no problem visiting brothels."

"Brothels are where women are paid for sex?"

"Yes."

"Why would a man need to pay for sex? Could he not find a woman to love him freely?" he asked.

Brienne felt color rising in her cheeks. "Some men find it easier to not let love interfere with their sexual pleasure, I suppose.

"They have the wrong way of it, then. For free folk, we love deeply, passionately. It isn't just about a quick fuck, it's about lighting a burning fire."

Brienne's cheeks were on fire. Must he look at her like that, like she's standing before him naked and wanton?

"That's… that's the way it should be," she managed.

"The free folk, we're often very sexually aggressive, but it's not as you southerners think. Our women are fighters. If she doesn't want a man's advances, she lets him know with the blade of her steel. But if she does want him, she won't fight that hard."

"So, she still fights?"

"Love is messy, complicated, conflicted. Nothing gained is worth it without a fight."

"And are you an accomplished fighter in such regards, Tormund?"

"I've conquered a few wives in my day. They've been lost to me, though. One in childbirth, another in battle. What about you, My Lady? Have you been conquered by love?"

She's lost to love, twice now, she thinks.

"Those I've loved… they were conquering in other places, they had no love for me."

"A pity… for them."

She smiled.

"Brienne, My Lady, you are magnificent. Strong, clever, and beautiful, a creature handcrafted by the gods. And if you were of the free folk, I would've already broken into your sleeping quarters and risked you cutting out my throat to have you. But I'm told that isn't done here. So, I am forced to ignore how I feel about you, forced to keep you at a distance, because you are a highborn lady, and I hold no southern title."

She felt heat engulf her entire body. She looked at him to see if he was simply making fun of her. The desire in his eyes convinced her otherwise.

He thought her beautiful? Desirable?

She looked at him, really looked at him. His dressing gown revealed his muscular chest, covered in soft red curls, the same hair covering his large legs. He was taller than her, bigger than her. She wondered what it would be like to have his large rough hands on her, to feel his mouth on her, the course hair of his beard across her skin.

"Tormund…" she started, her eyes drawn to his abdomen, smooth and defined. "I wouldn't put up too much of a fight."

At that, she smiled as his face dawned with realization of her meaning. She rose and went to let herself out. "Bring wine," she said, exiting.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Brienne was nervous about Tormund coming to her room. She checked the door several times to make certain it was unlatched. She had also acquired a tray of bread and cheese in case they grew hungry. Most importantly, she drank her moon tea. She drank it regularly anyway; menstruation was an inconvenience to a knight, and she didn't have time for inconveniences.

The room was softly lit by candles, and she was dressed in a very see-through shift.

She had sent Pod off to drink with Tyrion. She was a little sad to think she might lose him, but he deserved a place of honor in King's Landing. She was certain he'd make a great knight someday. But today she was just glad he wasn't hovering around her room this evening. She could undress herself, thank you. And she felt confident Tormund could manage the rest.

Oh, it was so unseemly what she was doing, inviting a wildling into her bed. A big, manly, sexually aggressive wildling. Just thinking of him made her squeeze her thighs together in anticipation.

She was just about to begin stimulating herself when her door opened. He quickly closed it and latched it. She smiled as she realized he looked a little nervous. He was holding the bottle of Dornish wine so tightly, his knuckles were white. She approached him and took the wine from him, brazenly letting him look upon her body. She wasn't soft and curved like other women, but she realized that isn't what he liked. He liked her. Her muscles and edges and strength. He wasn't her usual type, of course. She liked pretty men, with soft hair, and fine clothes. But something about Tormund lit a fire in her. Perhaps it was his kindness, or his unashamed admissions of his desires, but lately, instead of being repulsed by him, she found herself intrigued. Sitting by the fire with him traveling between Bear Island and Winterfell all those nights, she began to really appreciate him. And tonight, she expects she will appreciate him even more.

She poured them each a glass of wine, and they sat on the rug in front of the fire, his arm around her pulling her close, his face buried in her neck.

"Brienne, you are extraordinary. The most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon," he murmured into her neck.

"You haven't seen all of me to know if that's true or not," she found herself saying. Who was this wanton woman who had suddenly taken her over?

He placed their empty wine glasses on the table above them and pulled off her shift. He groaned as he looked upon her, completely naked. He pulled her into his lap and ran his large, rough hands over her body, pressing his erection into her. She moaned in pleasure, one hand firmly gripping her virgin pussy, the other kneading her right breast. He trailed kisses down her back and she writhed in pleasure.

"I need you, Tormund. I want you to take me. Like you would a wildling woman."

He groaned again, his erection straining against his britches. She wanted to put up a fight, she wanted it rough. He grabbed her one-armed around the waist and lifted her up as he stood up. She was surprised by both his strength and agility. She weighed more than most men, yet he tossed her about as though she were a mere child. He carried her over to the bed and dropped her onto her back. He dropped his trousers, freeing his large erection. She inhaled deeply at the sight of it.

"I'm going to bury myself deep inside of you, Brienne. You're going to scream my name so loudly, all of the guards will be breaking down your door."

He roughly shoved her legs apart, ready to enter her, but she caught him by the arms and pushed him away. He tried again, holding her down, but she was quite strong and she put up a good fight. She bit and scratched him and it was all he could do to not ejaculate all over her thighs as he was wrestling for dominance. Finally, he managed to pin both her arms back and with her legs spread, he pushed at her entrance. Her kissed her roughly and pushed into her, hard.

He knew it must be painful, as he felt her hymen break. He stifled her scream with his own mouth and then was more gentle, relaxing his grip on her and moving inside of her slowly. He felt her tremble beneath him, and he suckled on her breasts as he began thrusting inside her faster, deeper, under she climaxed. He emptied himself into her, her orgasm too much for him to control himself any longer.

He withdrew from her and covered her with gentle kisses. He'd been rough with her, he knew. She would have bruises on her wrists and she was marked all over her milky-white breasts. He knew he'd have a few bruises too. She didn't fight him to her full strength but she was still strong, and could do some damage.

It was the hottest sex he'd ever had.

"I love you," he murmured into her neck.

She looked at him with surprise.

"Does that upset you, Brienne? That in addition to wanting to ravage your body, that I love you as well? I did tell you this before. I want you like this every night."

She smiled and laid back into her pillow.

"I wouldn't mind that at all," she replied.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"My Queen, I don't think we can wait any longer to travel south to take the Iron Throne," Tyrion sighed. "The Wall is in tact. We will need the kingdom united before the winter progresses further."

"The Iron Throne can wait. If we don't fortify the North, there won't be a throne left in the South," Jon said.

"And how are we to do that with the kingdom fractured?" Tyrion asked, worrying over the maps across the table.

"We need more men, either way," Sansa frowned. "Even with your armies, Your Grace, with the Northmen, the wildlings, our southern allies, and the Vale, it's not enough."

"What about the Stormlands? What happened to Stannis Baratheon's army?" Dany asked.

"Many deserted, I'm told. It's in part why he was defeated by Bolton," Jon answered.

"Could we recruit his bannermen to our cause?" she asked. "Or will they not rally behind a Targaryen?"

"Perhaps, with the right man to rally them," the Onion Knight frowned. "My Queen, how would you feel about restoring House Baratheon, if there were an heir?"

"There are no heirs. The last with a claim to the Stormlands was Tommen," Tyrion sighed.

"What if that weren't true, Your Grace?" Davos pressed. "Would you allow a Baratheon to bend the knee and take control of Storm's End?"

Dany peered at Davos with cautious curiosity. "If there is a Baratheon left, then I would welcome his service. I take it you have one in mind?"

"I do, Your Grace. A lad called Gendry from Flea Bottom. He's the bastard of Robert Baratheon."

"Did you say Gendry? Pod, wasn't that the name of the lad…" Brienne asked.

"Yes, My Lady. The one who had traveled with the Lady Arya," Pod supplied.

"Arya?" Sansa asked. "You're certain?"

Brienne told the council how they had traced Arya to an inn, and encountered a pudgy baker named Hot Pie. He had told them a fantastic story of their journey from King's Landing, both Arya and Gendry on the run from the Lannisters.

"The Red Woman took Gendry from the Brotherhood without Banners and brought him to Stannis to use his blood. That would've been where he parted ways from Lady Arya, who then ended up with the Hound," Davos supplied.

"Is it possible Arya could have reunited with Gendry?" Sansa asked.

"I think it's possible. The first thing I would do is look for him at the Inn. And if not there, King's Landing," Davos said.

"The problem is there aren't many of us who can slip into King's Landing and not be recognized," Brienne frowned.

"Grey Worm and I are unknown. We could pose as travelers from the East," Missandei suggested.

"I'll go as well. I was a smuggler, I can get us into King's Landing undetected," Davis said. "Besides, the lad knows me, I spared his life."

"Do so with haste," Dany ordered. "Missandei, please be careful."

She curtsied and exchanged a small smile with her queen, as the three departed.

"Any word on what occurred at the Twins with the Freys? I am anxious for news of my Uncle," Sansa asked.

"They seem to believe the Lannisters did it, although the Lannisters point the finger at the Brotherhood without Banners. They've pulled their support of Cersei," Tyrion smiled.

"And who do you believe did it?" Dany asked him.

"Not Edmure, certainly," Jon said. "I doubt he has the support of his own bannermen after delivering the castle to the Freys."

"Wouldn't put it passed Cersei to have her own allies' throats slit, but the way it was done… My Queen, have you ever heard the tale of the rat cook?" Tyrion told the story.

"So, it was revenge for the Red Wedding. Tully men?" Dany asked.

"There are rumors…" Tyrion shifted uncomfortably.

"What sort of rumors?" Sansa asked.

"Of a serving girl. One that was there for only a day, and disappeared after the assassinations."

"You don't think…?" Jon said, suddenly alarmed.

"The stories this lad Hot Pie told about their time at Harrenhal…" Brienne frowned. "Yes, I would say she's quite capable."

"Wouldn't she be recognized?" Jon asked. "Anyone who saw her would know she's a Stark. She probably looks exactly like Lyanna by now."

"She disguised herself well enough to escape King's Landing," Sansa said. "And everyone looking for her had seen her before. The Freys had never met her, and they believe her dead."

"But then where is she now? Why hasn't she come home?" Jon frowned.

"Hot Pie said she had a list she would recite every night. People she wanted dead. I think there's only one name left on the list if more weren't added," Brienne sighed. "Cersei."

"So she's gone to King's Landing?" Sansa gasped. "She'll be recognized for sure!"

"Maybe not. Again, they aren't looking for her," Jon said.

"Pod, go inform Ser Davos of this information, informing him that he should expect to be on the lookout for Lady Arya as well," Brienne ordered.

"Yes, My Lady."

"Then we definitely want to hold off on any invasion of King's Landing until Arya and Gendry have been found," Dany concluded. "What of the river lands? With the Freys against the Lannisters, can we push for a return of Lord Edmure and amnesty for the remaining Freys?"

Jon scowled. He could feel the anger still swell in his chest at the loss of his brother. He wanted nothing more than the death of every Frey.

"There are not many Freys left, Your Grace," Sansa said, grabbing Jon's hand to still him. "The Brotherhood is said to have killed a great many of them in revenge for the Red Wedding. But there is one Frey we could use. My Lady Aunt Roslyn. I'm told she's borne his child."

"And to whom is she loyal?" Dany asked.

"That is uncertain. But it's a chance Edmure will have to take if he continues to bed her," Tyrion said.

"Tyrion, do you think you can broker a peace with the remaining Freys?"

"Not me, but I'm certain I know who can. The Queen of Thorns," he said.

"Excellent. Send her a raven at once. Is there any further business for the council to discuss?"

"No, Your Grace," Jon answered.

"Then I will beg your leave, my Lords and Ladies," Dany said. "Lady Sansa, Lady Brienne, I plan to take lunch in my chambers, would you care to join me? Please ask Lady Lyanna as well."

* * *

"It was very kind of you to ask us to lunch with you, Your Grace," Sansa said, curtsying as she entered.

"Please, Sansa, none of that here. Here we're just women sharing a meal. We're about to be family, after all. You can call me Dany in private. I do hope we'll be friends. I… haven't had many female friends, and the ones I've had have been servants. I adore Missandei, but she can't really get around her past as a slave and see herself as my friend, not servant. I… don't want to be worshiped, I just want to unite the kingdom, for all of us. And especially make it a better place for women."

The other three exchanged an approving look. They finally had a Queen they could respect.

"Dany, could you tell us what it was like growing up in the East?" Sansa asked, taking a sip of her wine. "I've always wanted to travel outside of Westeros."

Dany told them stories of her childhood, and then in turn, asked them each about their lives. They were having a delightful time talking, and drinking wine. Eventually they talked about their young adulthoods, and the paths they had taken. Finally, all except Lyanna, they talked about the men they'd loved and lost, and their prospects for the future.

"Once you've united the kingdom, you can bring Daario here," Lyanna insisted. "Kings keep mistresses, why can't a Queen?"

"I agree. It's time we stop being valued only for our virtue!" Sansa exclaimed, warm with wine. "Look at us, all we've accomplished! Are we to continue to be treated as nothing more than pretty faces?"

"I can't even count that, Sansa. I haven't got a pretty face!" Brienne laughed.

"Hm. Not what that wildling thinks," Lyanna grinned, tipsy on wine.

Dany laughed. "I hear they're getting on quite well."

Brienne reddened.

"My Hand is quite the gossip. He says Pod was sent away early the other night, because his Lady had a late-night visitor," Dany grinned.

"Brienne! You and Tormund!" Sansa gasped. "How was it?"

Brienne groaned in embarrassment and dropped her face in her hands. "The most amazing experience of my life."

The other three ladies shrieked in excitement, demanding every detail.

* * *

"Pod, is your lady still with the Queen?" Tyrion asked, coming in to dine. The ladies had been in with the Queen the entire day.

"Yes, My Lord Hand," he answered.

Jon sat with them, being joined by Tormund. "Why do I feel uneasy about that?"

"Because they're discussing us, that's why," Tyrion said, taking a large drink of wine.

"Not me, at least, my Lord," Pod said, tearing off a piece of bread.

"Don't be so sure. I saw Lady Lyanna size you up," Tyrion smirked.

Pod sputtered. "She's a little girl!"

"Not anymore, she's a woman grown. She's just small," Tyrion said, grinning into his cup.

"But don't worry, we'll protect you from any unwanted advances," Jon teased.

Pod finished and quickly took his leave.

"We shouldn't tease him," Jon said.

"I'm not sure the lad even likes girls yet. Might not ever," Tyrion shrugged. "So how is your betrothal to my former lady wife?"

Jon smiled. "I was taken by surprise by the arrangement at first, but I think it will be a happy one."

"The Lady Sansa is beautiful, inside and out. You are a lucky man, Your Grace," he said.

Jon hesitated. "My Lord Hand, you could have reinstated your marriage with her. I gave her my blessing before she left for Bear Island. Why did you not?"

"I am very fond of Lady Sansa, and having her as a true wife would have been a dream. But it would have made neither of us happy. Winterfell is her home, and my place is in King's Landing. Her place is here with you. And I suspect she has already grown to love you, having known for months now you aren't brother and sister."

Color rose to his cheeks thinking back to the past evening.

"And you her, I see. Good. Even Kings deserve to marry for love," Tyrion said. "And they should, for the good of the realm. Imagine if your parents had just been able to be together without interference. Imagine if my wretched sister hadn't been forced to marry Robert. A good king needs a loyal, beloved queen at his side."

"Is that what I'll be, My Lord? A good king?" Jon asked quietly.

As he rose from the table, he placed a hand on Jon's shoulder. "My friend, you will be a great king."

At that, Tyrion took his leave.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Arya sat perched among the branches of the tall oak tree as the final rays of sunlight slipped away. She had a view into the forge of a strong, shirtless man, expertly tapping steel with his hammer. It was the tenth forge she'd visited that month, and she'd nearly overlooked it. As she watched him from the trees, she was certain it was him. But the more certain she became of his identity, the less certain she became of their reunion.

When Arya returned to Westeros, the flayed man sigil was still flying above Winterfell, and her idiotic sister had married the Bastard of Bolton, giving him a legitimate claim to their home. In the meantime, she knew she could easily liberate Riverrun, her mother's ancestral home, by ridding it of the Frey filth who had betrayed her family. It only took a few weeks to devise a plan that she executed perfectly. The Freys were already quite fewer in number, thanks to the Brotherhood Without Banners. She decided to leave her Uncle Edmure locked away, however. She didn't want to implicate herself or her family, but also Edmure deserved to suffer a little more at the hands of the Freys before he regained his place as the Lord of Riverrun. She had learned how he allowed the Lannisters in to save his own skin, and how it led to the death of his own uncle, the Blackfish. Eventually, Edmure will resume his place, she knew, but she wasn't ready to forgive and forget.

After she left the Freys, she stopped in to check on Hot Pie. She had been surprised to learn through him that Gendry was alive, news she had not expected when she saw him taken away by the Red Witch. Hot Pie had gotten a visit from Gendry after his escape from Stannis, who turns out, was his uncle. Gendry had returned to the inn looking for Arya, but Hot Pie had no useful information for him at the time. He hadn't seen Gendry since, and did not know where he ended up, but he'd mentioned he intended to smith in the general area, trying to lay low.

The guilt of their separation ate at her. During the years she had been gone, she had grown up considerably. Not just physically, but her world view had changed dramatically. She understood now why Gendry had planned to leave her for the Brotherhood. She doesn't know if she could convince him to join her again, but she missed him. He was part of her pack, and she didn't intend to leave him behind if she could convince him to join her at Winterfell.

Since Gendry was not killed, she removed three names from her list, and was left with only one - Cersei Lannister. She had intended to continue on to King's Landing to give her gift to Cersei, but the news of the Dragon Queen had made her change her plans. Let Cersei be roasted by dragons instead, it's what she deserves after the wildfire burned through the Sept. Further news came that her brother Jon had defeated the Bastard of Bolton and retaken their home, with their sister at his side. He had been crowned King in the North. It was time for Arya to go home. But she wanted Gendry with her when she did.

Arya decided to slip away unseen instead of confronting Gendry. She would continue to observe him until she could decide how to approach him. She put on another face and took a job in the local inn. Gendry kept to himself, working the forge to earn his keep, and did other odd jobs to help the inn keeper, a girl not any older than herself. Initially, she believed Gendry had made a life for himself, and it was quite obvious the innkeeper Jayne was rather sweet on him. He was living comfortably, at least compared to what they had experienced on the road. But with more careful observation, she could tell he was restless and unhappy. He didn't reciprocate Jayne's affections, and slept alone on a straw bed in the forge.

After two weeks of observation, Arya had finally decided she would reveal herself to him, but instead, a different opportunity arose.

Arya was perched in her usual tree, watching him work. She ducked further into the branches when she saw a young, foreign-looking couple approach the forge. She had seen them in the pub earlier. Hanging back was a lighter-skinned man, much older than them. The three entered, but they only spoke a few words to Gendry, before he became angry. He lifted up his hammer defensively, and the younger man drew his sword. The older man shouted and came between them, as Arya leapt from the tree, and tumbling through the window, she landed at Gendry's side, sword drawn.

Gendry was so shocked at the sight of her, he dropped his hammer, narrowly missing his own foot.

"Arya?" he gasped.

"Lady Arya," the older man said, bowing. He looked neither surprised nor concerned about her presence, as though he had expected she would be there. Grey Worm and Missandei followed suit, Grey Worm lowering his sword but stepping slightly in front of Missandei.

"I thought you were dead," Gendry rasped, his voice thick with emotion. "At the Twins, at the Red Wedding. I thought you'd died."

She was surprised to find she was equally emotional. "I thought you were dead too. When the Red Witch carted you off…"

"This man here, the Onion Knight, he saved me from my Uncle Stannis, when the Red Woman wanted to sacrifice me to her god. He helped me escape," Gendry gestured.

"I am Ser Davos, My Lady, Hand of the King in the North, Jon Snow," he explained. "I once served King Stannis, until he was defeated by the Boltons at the Battle of Winterfell. Since then, I have served your… uh, brother… My Lady. This is Grey Worm, who leads the Unsullied army of our ally and our Queen, Daenerys. The Lady is Missandei, Her Majesty's Interpreter and trusted Advisor. We were sent by King Jon and Queen Daenerys to find Gendry. We hoped we would also find you, Lady Arya."

"What do you want with Gendry?" she asked, suspiciously.

"He wants me to return with them to Winterfell. He says your brother and the Dragon Queen want to legitimize me."

"Legitimize you? Why?"

"Because he's the bastard son of Robert Baratheon, which makes him the last remaining Baratheon, My Lady. All the rest are gone. And someone needs to lead the Stormlands and call up the Baratheon bannermen."

"I was just telling him to bugger off, when you charged in," Gendry replied.

"You should do it," Arya said.

"What? Why? I can't trust anything coming from these lords. The last time they wanted my Baratheon blood, they wanted to…"

"You can trust my brother," Arya said firmly. "Please, come home with me. It's why I'm here as well. I came to bring you with me to Winterfell."

Gendry found himself unable to refuse a request from m'lady.

* * *

The five of them traveled as quickly as possible back to Winterfell, but even with good horses, the trip was lengthy, made more difficult by the start of Winter. The rendezvous point was Moat Cailin, and once they crossed into the North from the Riverlands, Davos sent a raven.

Davos couldn't help but feel like the chaperone of two young couples. At night, Grey Worm and Missandei would curl up together as would lovers, with Grey Worm gently stroking her hair as she slept. Sitting by the fire, Arya and Gendry would whisper together, trying not to wake the others. Davos tried not to eavesdrop, instead, closing his eyes trying to sleep, but he could hear bits of their conversation anyway.

"What sort of Lord would I even make? A gutter rat from Flea Bottom."

"You'll make a great lord, Gendry. Far better than the other stupid lords I've known. War gives rise to opportunity. Look at Ser Davos. He was a smuggler in the previous war, now he's been Hand to two different kings."

"Will you help me, Arya? I can't do this alone."

"Of course I will. You'll need help mobilizing the Stormlands, and making plans for battle."

"I mean after. After the war is over, if I survive it, will you be there to help me then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Being a Lord, managing an entire territory. Having bannermen and everything, if they'll even accept me. It isn't exactly something I was taught to do."

"You want me to help you rule the Stormlands?"

"Would you? I can't do it alone."

"Gendry… are you asking…?" she questioned, slightly alarmed.

He flushed. "No! No, I mean, I meant, I just… it's just... I also don't want to do this without you…" He took a deep breath and worked up the courage to continue. "Arya, you said before, the last night before we were separated, you said… that you could be my family. I know I refused you then, but being a lord, it makes things different, it puts us on equal standing, just like I wanted to have with the Brotherhood. I mean, I want..."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of wolves howling.

"Nymeria," Arya whispered in awe.

Grey Worm drew his sword and leapt to his feet at the sight of red eyes in the brush.

"It's all right. She's here for me," Arya said softly.

Grey Worm looked back to Arya and lowered his sword even as the direwolf approached. Arya let her sniff her before she ventured a hand up to pet her.

"I've missed you," Arya said, burying her face into her fur.

Gendry sighed with relief at the interruption in a conversation that had gotten far too serious. Davos, Missandei and Grey Worm were glad that was the only wolf that ventured into their camp, because she was terrifying enough on her own.

* * *

The next day, they arrived at Moat Cailin, with Nymeria trailing behind, along with her wolf pack in the distance.

Arya had not been expecting to be greeted by Jon himself. She ran into his arms, having returned to her beloved brother at last. She wasn't the only one reunited with her brother; Nymeria and Ghost were quickly inseparable.

Their happy reunion was short-lived, however, as he asked to speak to her in private after introductions were made and food was served. There, he told her the truth about his parentage, as well as his engagement to Sansa.

Arya was good at hiding her emotions, but not from Jon. She cried on his shoulder, losing her beloved brother she only just got back.

"Arya, I'm still your brother."

"You obviously aren't Sansa's brother anymore," she said, bitterly.

"No, I never was though, was I? Sansa hated me when we were children, she never thought of me as her brother, truly. And building our relationship as adults, we found out pretty early that we weren't actually siblings. That made what we needed to do a lot easier."

"You mean, you're being forced to marry Sansa?" she gasped.

"No, not exactly. I mean, it began as political necessity, but Arya, I do love her. I'm in love with her. It's what we both want," he said.

She nodded. "I guess you'll be my brother after all, then."

"I will always be your brother. Arya, I love you," he said, pulling her close. "So, tell me about Gendry. Is he a good man?"

"He is. A far better man than his father was. He will make an excellent Lord of Storm's End."

"Are you and he…?"

"He's my family too, Jon," she explained, telling him briefly of their escape from King's Landing, their escape from Harrenhal, and their separation after being captured by the Brotherhood. She also told him of her time in Braavos, but she left out the specifics of the Faceless Men. She also omitted her execution of the Freys, but she thinks Jon might already suspect the truth. She told him she was in the Riverlands to look for Gendry, wanting to return to Winterfell with him.

"Arya, I promise I will do my best not to use you as a political pawn. But if you love Gendry, the match would certainly be advantageous and assist both his legitimacy as a leader and strengthen our alliances. He will also need the help to rule the Stormlands."

She shook her head. "I don't want to be some stupid lord's stupid wife."

"You would be so much more than that to Gendry," he said. "He needs a wife and heirs, sure, but he also needs someone to teach him how to lead, to lead with him. He needs a champion."

She stayed silent. She knew it was a good match, if she ever actually had to marry. Gendry would never expect her to be a proper lady, not being a proper lord himself. But the idea of leaving Winterfell again, when they hadn't even reached it yet…

"Just think about it, there's no need to make any hasty decisions. But once we return to Winterfell, after the wedding celebration, we need to begin making plans for his return to Storm's End. The Dragon Queen will set sail for Dragonstone from Blazewater Bay, and will take Gendry to the Stormlands along with various men from the North, the Vale, Pyke, the Reach and Dorne. We want to show the bannermen of the Stormlands that Westeros is uniting under the Dragon Queen before she takes King's Landing, and that Gendry Baratheon will lead them."

"I want to go with him," she said.

Jon nodded. "I had hoped you would, if for no other reason than your safety. Winter has come, and what is beyond the Wall is much more dangerous than what awaits in the Stormlands, but please be careful anyway."

That night, Arya sought out Gendry to tell him of the plans, and her intention to come with him. She did not, however, mention the prospect of their marriage. Arya was not her sister; she did not consider marriage to be something she wanted. In fact, it had always been something she dreaded.

But as a woman, she could not deny what she felt for Gendry. She'd had the beginnings of feelings for him as a girl, watching him work, admiring his body. Watching him now, she understood those feelings in a new context - one of desire.

As she went to sleep, she realized she already missed the feeling of his body pressed against hers at night. She allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to be his wife, to share his bed, to bear his children. Could she be both the Lady of Storm's End, and the woman she wanted to be?


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Lady Brienne slammed her fist down on the table. "Do you really think my virtue is any of your concern?"

Littlefinger smiled at her, kindly. "I am only looking out for your reputation, My Lady. If you care not for your poor father, at least think of the House and throne you serve. How would it look upon your King and future Queen, for their sworn shield to be engaging in such disreputable behavior… with a _wildling_?"

"Lord Baelish," she hissed. "I have never trusted you, nor will I. You betrayed the Starks too many times. Send a raven to every house in Westeros about my lack of virtue if it pleases you. I will not play your games. I am certainly no fool."

Grabbing the hilt of her sword and giving him a final seething glare, she stormed out of the room.

"Tsk, tsk, Petyr. Your blackmail game is out of practice," Varys chuckled, appearing from the shadows.

Littlefinger glared at him. "It can hardly be helped that the wench has no shame. Probably comes from being bedded by a wildling like a common brothel whore."

"Mm. Says the man who tossed his lady wife into a hole in the floor," he replied with a short laugh. "Isn't the Eyrie enough for you, Petyr? Have you not had your fill of power? No. No, I suppose not."

Varys didn't wait for him to respond before sliding out of the room.

* * *

"Of course Littlefinger's a problem. He's breathing, isn't he?" Tyrion replied, taking a swig of wine. He sat at a table in his sleeping quarters, waiting for Pod to make his next move in their game of cyvasse.

"He's going to make a move against the King in the North," Varys replied, nudging Pod towards his catapult.

Tyrion glared at Varys as Pod removed his dragon. "Well, of course he is. He already conspired to have one king murdered, why not another, then another? The fool believes he'll eventually kill enough kings to become one himself."

"You find him foolish?" Varys asked interestedly.

"Very. The Knights of the Vale despise Littlefinger, and he might have the Arryn lordling under his control now, but he won't for much longer. The lad's nearly a man grown, albeit a weak and pathetic one. He's desperate for power, because he's close to losing his."

"And with that desperation, there is a danger in underestimating him, My Lord Hand," Varys said. "He not only wants a throne, he wants a queen. In particular, a Tully Queen."

Tyrion flinched at that. "He expects once he rids himself of the competition, he'll make himself King in the North by wedding Sansa."

"Indeed, My Lord."

"The problem is that we cannot ensure the King in the North stays alive, even without Littlefinger's interference. The war is coming. And if we don't win it, there won't be a throne to sit on anyway."

"Regardless, you know too well, My Lord Hand, how saboteurs can, in the heat of battle, pose a threat. Or, perhaps, eliminate one."

Tyrion frowned again, and finished his wine. "Pod, I concede. You have thoroughly defeated me. Well, done, lad."

Pod grinned. "Thank you, My Lord Hand."

"Best return to find your Lady, I expect she has training for you before dinner."

"Yes, My Lord Hand. G'day, Lord Varys," he bowed, and left the room.

Varys took his place at the table and examined the dragon piece. Tyrion sighed. "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

"The King has received a raven from the Citadel, My Lady. Your Majesty. Lady Lyanna," Lady Brienne said, entering Sansa's chambers and giving a bow.

"Please, Brienne, sit, have tea with us," Dany said, gesturing for the guards to close the door.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Brienne said, taking a seat, as Sansa poured her a cup.

"It must be from Samwell Tarly, his friend from the Night's Watch," Sansa explained. She opened the scroll and read it.

"Oh, Jon will be delighted. Sam has decided to travel to Winterfell for the wedding celebrations. He has also learned a great deal that could be useful in the war to come, and has asked that we make the forge available to him, along with our blacksmith. He's also… bringing a wildling woman with him, and her child."

"Is that odd?" Dany asked.

"Indeed, Your Majesty. Men of the Night's Watch take no wives and father no children," Brienne answered. "Doing so is breaking his vows, and a shameful act." She flushed with guilt at her earlier confrontation with Littlefinger, but shook it off.

Sansa nodded. "Jon says that Sam saved the wildling woman. She was being raped by her father and forced to bear children, which would then be sacrificed to the Night's King if they were boys. Sam saved her and the child and brought them both to Castle Black. She went with him to Oldtown when he left for the Citadel to train as a maester."

"How dreadful for her," Dany frowned. "The way women are so often treated at the hands of abusive men. There will be justice for women like her once I sit the throne, not just escape."

Sansa thought briefly about her own justice with satisfaction. "I look forward to that day."

"Brienne, before you entered, we were speaking of Lord Baelish," Dany said, brow furrowed.

"Yes, why is he still here again?" she frowned. "He made some vague threat against me, trying to use his knowledge of my relationship with Tormund."

"Did he?" Dany asked, taking another sip of tea. "I'm not surprised. Lord Varys predicted he would try to sow discord among our inner circle, look for a potential traitor."

"We have to tread carefully," Sansa advised. "While Littlefinger certainly can't be trusted, he isn't without his uses. Without him, we don't have the support of the Vale."

"Why should the Knights of the Vale support Littlefinger? They don't even like him. He isn't Lord of the Eyrie, and Lord Robin has nearly reached majority age. They're eager to cast him out," Lyanna said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

"The problem is that Littlefinger is the only father Lord Robin knows, and he's loyal to him," Sansa replied.

"Has there been talk of a match for Lord Robin?" Dany asked.

Sansa sighed. "Other than me at one time, no."

"What if we arranged a match for Lord Robin that Littlefinger couldn't refuse? Having a House loyal to ours to rival Littlefinger," Dany asked.

Lyanna look aghast. "Oh no, don't look at me."

"Littlefinger would never allow Lord Robin to marry a girl of the North, especially not one of our closest allies, it would be too obvious," Sansa said. "And there are no noble daughters of the Vale of marriageable age."

"What about any houses sworn to Highgarden?" Dany asked.

"Yes. Speaking of House Tarly, what about Talla Tarly?" Lyanna interjected. "I'm not particularly interested in idle gossip, but this might be of interest. Before Jon's friend Samwell of the Night's Watch, formerly the elder son of Lord Randyll Tarly, made it to the Citadel, he intended to leave the wildling woman and the child with his family, claiming the child as his bastard. However, once Lord Randyll realized she was a wildling, he flew into a rage, which Sam apparently didn't take kindly to, and he left in the middle of the night with the wildling woman, the child, and his House ancestral Valyrian sword."

Brienne laughed. "I like this Sam already."

"Sam's mother and Lady Talla were both extremely angry at Lord Randyll. And then they too left, to go to Lady Talla's betrothed to see about wedding planning. Except when they arrived, they discovered he was in the town brothel, engaging the services of men. The Tyrell bannermen are still angry and embarrassed about Lord Loras's charges in King's Landing by the Faith Militant, so Lady Talla was able to use this knowledge to extract herself from her unwanted betrothal. She also has expressed a desire to leave Horn Hill, as far away from her father as possible. I should think the Eyrie is pretty far."

"How do you know all this?" Dany asked.

"My maester's a gossip," she said. "He's worse than a Septa."

"It would be an excellent match for House Tarly. Robin's the Warden in the East, that would be a strong alliance for Highgarden to make. And Littlefinger couldn't possibly refuse such a temptation. He'll believe Talla to be a pushover. She hardly sounds as such."

"How can we arrange this?" Dany nodded, pleased.

Sansa laughed. "Well, we can hardly invite Lord Randyll here when Sam will be here. Let's see if Lady Olenna can find use for Lord Randyll at Highgarden. Meanwhile, we can invite Lady Melessa, Lady Talla and Lord Dickon to the wedding festivities. The Queen of Thorns can certainly make that happen. We can do it under the guise of a reunion for Sam, in case Lady Olenna might still have alliances with Littlefinger, we don't want to tip her off."

"Lord Randyll sounds like a miserable tyrant, but if we must, we can also extend an invitation for him to serve the Queen's Council," Dany said.

"Let's hope it won't come to that," Brienne said. "Lord Randyll is as dreadful as they say."

"Well then," Dany said, nodding. "I believe we've solved our biggest problem at present. Shall we move on to wedding planning?"

Brienne and Lyanna looked at one another and groaned.

"Go on to the yard and train then, no one needs your negativity," Dany grinned.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Brienne said with a small smile.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Lyanna echoed.

Sansa laughed as they closed the door behind them. "I believe if Arya ever returns home, she will be pleased to see how things have changed. All those women in the yard, training for battle. She'd love it."

"Your sister is a warrior too, then?" Dany asked.

"She wanted to be. Jon gave her this small sword before he left for the Night's Watch…" she frowned.

"What's the matter?" Dany asked, gently.

"Just… memories. Some good ones, some terrible ones. My sister and I didn't get along. I don't suppose I was really close to any of my siblings, especially not to Jon, who I had never even accepted was my brother. But Arya and I were quite awful to one another. I… I hope she can forgive me. The way I treated her. The mistakes I made when I was just a foolish girl."

Dany nodded. "You can't change the past, but you've changed yourself, it would seem."

"I have. I had to change. The constant threats in King's Landing, and then ending up with Ramsay. There was no more room to be a child."

"I can understand that. I was barely more than a child when I was wed to a man with whom I couldn't even communicate. But I was fortunate enough that he was a good man, the best of men, and we loved one another more than anything. All of the hardships we faced to get here, that love was my anchor."

"Do you think you could love again, Dany? I mean, there was Daario…"

She smiled. "I hope so. It might be foolish of me to hope for it, to hope a man could love me in return without the promise of power, to be willing to bend the knee and be consort to a barren Targaryen Queen."

At that, there was a knock on the door. A guard entered.

"Your Majesty, it is time for your meeting with His Lord Hand, if I may escort you."

"Thank you," she said, kissing Sansa on the cheek and taking her leave. "We'll discuss wedding plans after dinner this evening."

Sansa sat by the window watching the snow fall once she was alone. While beautiful, she knew how treacherous the snows could be. She hoped Jon's travels would be safe, and that he would return home with Arya. Pulling on her cloak, she decided to put those hopes into prayers in the Godswood.

* * *

Sansa hadn't been in the Godswood but for only a few minutes before the crunch of snow alerted her that she had company. She wasn't entirely surprised to turn around and find Littlefinger.

"Lord Baelish, have you come to pray for the King's safe return as well?" she said, managing to keep a neutral expression.

"I'm not here for prayer, My Lady. Only to find a quiet moment."

"In that case, I will leave you to your solitude, My Lord," Sansa said.

"Sansa," he said, grabbing her hand. "Why settle for only the North, when you could have the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms at my side?"

"Why would I want them, Lord Baelish?" Sansa asked, taking back her hand. "And why do you want them?"

Littlefinger looked surprised. "Why wouldn't I want them? The power of having Seven Kingdoms worship at your feet?"

"The responsibility of maintaining peace and security for Seven Kingdoms. I would rather be here, in the North, with my people, managing our own affairs, at my Husband's side."

"You can't honestly want this marriage?"

"Of course I do. It's a good match, and His Grace is a good man."

"A match only made to give him legitimacy as regent."

She nodded. "I helped give him the crown. And I will help him keep it. It's my duty, and my honor."

"You don't love him."

She laughed. "Since when is love necessary for marriage?"

"It is if you want to be happy. I can make you happy," he said, his voice gravely, pulling her close.

She swallowed down the disgust rising up in her throat and took a step away. "I don't need anyone to make me happy, but I am quite happy with my betrothal to Jon. We will wed, we will rule the North, and I will bear him children, heirs to both the Iron Throne and the Winter Throne. This is what I want, and I am happy. Good day, Lord Baelish."

A chill ran through her as she walked away. She was certain she heard him say, "Not if I can help it."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

It had been a week since Arya's return to Winterfell, and although she was finally reunited with her family and home, she found she was surrounded by both ghosts and strangers.

Her sister Sansa was far removed from the stupid girl who'd been left in the Lannisters' hands when she'd fled King's Landing with Yoren so many years ago. In her place was a regal young woman, confident and powerful. She reminded Arya of their mother, but there was something else to her that Arya recognized from her own heart, an element of steely vengeance that surrounded her. While Arya had been through her share of hardship, war and death, it was nothing compared to what Sansa had suffered at the hands of the Lannisters and the Boltons.

Even so, their reunion had been emotional. Sansa was truly sorry for her treatment of her sister, and Arya was equally shamefaced. They couldn't live in the past, however; it was time to make a future. That future was only secure by defeating their enemies, and to do so, they needed to be a united front.

Arya still was unnerved by her "brother" and sister intending to wed, but she had to admit, seeing them together, they reminded her so much of her parents. They loved one another, she could see that too. And Jon had certainly grown into his role as King. Sansa was raised to be Queen. It was a good match. It would just take some getting used to.

Arya, on the other hand, may have been raised to be a stupid lord's stupid wife, but she had hardly intended for it to turn out that way. In the meantime, as she continued to watch Lord Baratheon work steel in the forge every day, she continued to wonder if there was a way to be a wife without being stupid about it.

* * *

As Jon had commanded that all able-bodied men, women, and youth be trained in combat, Arya had agreed to train Sansa in shooting first, before moving on to swords. Truly, Sansa was terrible at it too, but at least she was better than she remembered their brother Bran had been. Sansa had just released an arrow that came a good four inches away from the target, when their lesson was interrupted by unexpected guests.

"M'Lady, there is a man at the gate, asked for you. Said he's called The Hound," a guard said, bowing to Sansa.

Arya shook her head and laughed. "Ridiculous. He's impossible to kill, I'll give him that."

Sansa exhaled. "Please, allow him in."

"There are others with him. A Lord Beric and a Thoros, M'Lady."

"Damnit!" Arya cursed. "Speaking of impossible to kill!"

Sansa merely looked at her.

"Ugh, fine, see them all in, Ser," Arya sighed. "I doubt Gendry will be very happy either. I'd better go warn him."

"I'll provide them with hospitality and we'll greet them in the hall," Sansa agreed, handing her the bow and quiver of arrows.

* * *

"It's coming. Beyond the Wall. The Night's King. The Lord of Light has shown him to us in the flames," Thoros said.

"Don't need some fire god to tell us that," Tormund grunted.

"We've seen the Night's King already. We know the threat posed by the dead," Jon replied.

"The Wall will not hold," Lord Beric said.

"You don't know that, Lord Beric," Sansa said. "The Wall has held for thousands of years."

"And this is a threat never before seen, My Lady. We must move north to fight. Or there won't be anything left to fight for," the Hound said.

"We can't fight a war on two fronts," Jon said. "Lannister forces threaten to move north."

"Fuck Cersei Lannister in her shriveled old cunt," the Hound said.

Tyrion laughed. "You'll have to wait your turn for that, Sandor. It is still inadvisable to underestimate the threat my sweet sister poses, however. She still controls three territories."

"Not for much longer. We sail for Storm's End in a fortnight," Gendry spoke up, as he entered the hall with Arya.

"Ah, if it isn't the Baratheon bastard and his feral Lady," Lord Beric grinned.

"Yes, and you're lucky that Stannis didn't kill Gendry, because otherwise, I'd have my blade in your only good eye. And it's hard to be brought back to life when I've done the same to your priest," Arya snarled.

"Why should we trust you, Lord Beric, when you've betrayed us before?" Gendry asked.

"Because the Dragon king here knows I'm right," he said, pointing to Jon. "You've felt the touch of the Lord of the Light, brought you back, he did. The flames will tell you, the flames will show you, you are the Prince who was promised. You have my sword, my King."

At that, Beric, Thoros and the Hound, pulled their swords and knelt before Jon.

* * *

"So how is it you aren't dead, anyway?" Arya asked the Hound, as she watched Brienne train Pod in the yard. She winced as Pod left himself open and Brienne hit him so hard he flew backwards a good three feet.

"Too fucking stubborn to die," he grunted. "And you? How'd a runt like you make it alone all this time?"

She shrugged. "I blend in well."

He grunted again. "Well enough to slaughter every fucking Frey?"

She grinned. "I hear they drank something that didn't agree with them."

He laughed.

"So, what's that fucker doing here?" the Hound asked.

"Which fucker exactly?"

"Littlefinger."

"He's my cousin Robin's guardian, and he's acting warden of the…"

"I don't care if he's fucking King of the World, why would you let him in your gates?"

"He rubs me the wrong way too, but Sansa insists he…"

"He betrayed your father. I would've figured that would score higher up on your kill list than some dead butcher's boy."

She looked at him in shock.

"What?"

"What do you mean, betrayed my father?"

The Hound told her the story of what happened with Cersei and Joffrey.

She sniffed. "Well, it isn't as though Sansa didn't have a part in that as well. I'm sure if she's forgiven him, then all is well."

He looked at her suspiciously.

She avoided his gaze and instead concentrated on Brienne's sword technique. "It's time we moved forward. We have to stay united if we're to defeat both the Night's King and the Lannisters."

* * *

That night when Arya said her evening prayer, her list had a new name.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"You look beautiful, my sweet," Tyrion said, kissing Sansa's hand.

She smiled at him, nervously. "This all seems very familiar."

"Well, you've been through it all before. Twice now. This time, I suspect it will be the one to make you happy," he said, escorting her to the godswood.

It was dark and the snow fell softly but heavy around them, blending into Sansa's ivory gown. The lanterns lit the path to the godswood. She felt her chest tighten. The scene was all too familiar, and an unreasonable fear swelled in her abdomen.

"You will be fine, Sansa," Tyrion murmured, patting her hand as he led her through the lanterns. "Ramsay is dust. Jon is waiting for you now, a kind and loving husband. These memories will replace the old, and you will be happy."

She exhaled. "Tyrion… thank you."

He continued patting her hand until they reached her groom.

Once she locked eyes with Jon, she immediately felt safe. Tyrion's words were true.

"Who comes before the old gods this night?" Dany asked, trying not to shiver beneath her massive fur cape. Dragons were not made for cold.

"Sansa of House Stark comes here to be wed," Tyrion replied. "A woman grown, true born and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Jon stepped forward and took Sansa's trembling hands in his own. "Jaehaerys of House Targaryen, known as Jon, King in the North. Who gives her?"

"Tyrion of House Lannister, Hand of the Queen."

"Lady Sansa, do you take this man?" Dany asked.

Her eyes welled with tears, and she was afraid she wouldn't get the words out. She nodded and through her tears said, "I take this man."

"King Jon, do you take this woman?" Dany asked.

Jon brought a hand up and gently wiped away her tears. "I take this woman."

They kneeled before the heart tree and bowed their heads in silent prayer.

After a moment, Jon rose to cover her in the Targaryen cloak, then kissed her gently.

The feast would begin.

* * *

"There was a moment, when we were at the heart tree, I felt like…" she frowned. "I don't know how to describe it, but I feel like Bran was there."

"It's strange, but I know what you mean. Lord Howland had said Bran had the gift of the greensight, that weirwood trees are a connection. Maybe he's right," Jon said.

"I hope, wherever he is, he's safe and he comes home," Sansa said, nibbling on a piece of bread.

"I do too. Hey, you should eat something more than just picking at your plate. It's a feast. Our wedding feast. There won't be much opportunity for celebration in the days to come. Enjoy it, my love," he said, kissing her softly.

She sighed happily at his kiss, a sound that made him want to skip the feast and go straight for the bedding. It had been a long four months, but his wait was finally over.

* * *

"Cousin Robin," Arya said, putting an arm through the nervous boy's. "Come dance with me!"

"Uh, I don't really, I mean, I don't think…" he protested, as Arya pulled him to the dance floor. Meanwhile, Gendry led Lyanna to the dance floor, and Pod, under a great deal of coercion, finally asked Sam's sister Talla to dance. Gilly had been trying to talk Sam into dancing, but he just wouldn't budge, so Sam's brother Dickon filled in. Sam's mother was happily cooing at her grandson while watching her children dance.

Sansa and Dany looked on, pleased, as Jon was merrily catching up with his friend Sam. As planned, Lyanna spirited a slightly-terrified looking Pod away from Talla. Arya whispered something into Robin's ear, and although he squeaked, he managed to bow to Talla and ask her to dance. Gendry then took Arya in his arms and swept her away.

"That went remarkably well, I think," Arya said, as they stepped outside of the hall to get some air. "You dance quite well too, by the way. Has Sansa been teaching you?"

"Your sister has been very kind to me. I'm grateful that your family has been so good to me," he said.

"I hear a 'but' in there," she frowned.

He sighed. "I still don't belong here. With you highborn folk."

"Of course you do. You're the son of a king. The last Baratheon. You belong here as much as anyone."

"I wasn't raised in a good house like you. I'm just a gutter rat from Flea Bottom. How is anyone going to respect me as Lord of Storm's End?"

"They will respect you, because you're their rightful Lord, and unlike the last few Baratheons, you're a good, honorable man who will lead them well."

"I appreciate your faith in me, Arya…"

"Of course I believe in you, Gendry. I have always believed in you, even before I knew you were a king's son, I…"

She lost the rest of the sentence as she realized how close he was standing. She looked up at him, his handsome face, striking blue eyes, dark hair. Before she could overthink it, she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

Gendry deepened the kiss, holding her in his arms, feeling her warmth through the soft material of her dress.

* * *

Sansa frowned, wondering where her little sister had wandered off to with Gendry Baratheon. Things seemed to be going well with Robin and Talla, however. They were at a table talking to Gilly and Dickon. She was glad Robin seemed to be enjoying himself, and the spunky Talla Tarley was doing an excellent job of putting him at ease. It was a good match, she thought.

She caught Littlefinger staring at her more than once. Normally, she would not be pleased at being the object of his attention, but the more he concentrated on her, the less he would notice the matchmaking unfolding of his ward.

She finally decided to just face him head-on. She whispered to Jon and he frowned, shaking his head. She whispered again, and he relented, asking his aunt to dance. Once alone, she knew Littlefinger would come.

"Would you care to dance, My Queen?" Littlefinger asked.

"I would be delighted, Lord Baelish," Sansa said, extending her hand.

"Would this were our wedding feast, Sansa," he whispered. She shivered in repulsion, feeling his breath on her ear.

"Mm. But it's not. Nor will it be. Jon is my husband now. And the only one sitting the Iron Throne is Daenerys. Perhaps you should woo her instead," she said.

"I wouldn't count Cersei out so easily," Littlefinger said. "Neither might sit the throne by the end of this."

"In that case, I'll need to get to work producing a Targareyn heir. Thank you for the dance, My Lord," she said, as the song ended and she made her way to Jon.

Littlefinger flinched at that. From across the room he didn't spot Varys watching him intently.

* * *

"Arya, this isn't proper," Gendry gasped, as she pushed him backwards onto his bed.

"Shut up, Stupid," she said, silencing him with her mouth.

He pushed her away. "Arya, stop!"

She looked at him sternly. "Why?"

"Why? Why? Because we aren't wed! We aren't even betrothed! You won't even have a conversation with me that comes anywhere near that topic!"

She looked both surprised and confused. She stammered, "Wha- what does that have to do with pleasure?"

"Is that all this is about? Pleasure? Dammit, Arya!" he said, standing up and running a hand over his face. "I love you. I'm in love with you. I don't want to just take pleasure from you. Or even just to give you pleasure. I want more than that, for both of us."

She sighed. "I love you too, Gendry. But I don't know what I can give you besides pleasure. I can be your family, I am your family, but I can't be just some lady in a castle. That's not me."

"No, that's not you. And some stupid lord in a castle isn't me either. Can't we be something different?"

"What do want me to be then?" she asked, honestly curious.

"You. Just you. By my side, us doing this thing together. Figuring out how to lead an army, fight battles, and then if we actually live through it, making a home, managing lands and people, whatever it is a lord is supposed to do, we'll do it. But we'll do it our way," he said, wrapping his arms around her.

"By together, that means as equals. That means you don't expect me to sit around and embroider while you rule?" she asked.

He laughed. "You? Embroider? Do you even know how?"

She laughed. "Not really. I'm as terrible at it as Sansa is at shooting arrows."

"Then no embroidery. Training men and women in archery and swords instead?"

"I could handle that," she nodded. "What about children?"

He frowned. "I never wanted children. I still don't. Women die in child birth. It's how my own mother died. I don't want to watch the woman I love die just to give me a child."

"I don't want children either. But as Lord of a great house you'll need heirs, you have no siblings or close cousins."

He sighed and sat down on the bed with his head in his hands. "I hadn't even considered it."

"There's no hurry on it," Arya said. "I never wanted children either, but maybe that will change."

"And if it doesn't?"

She frowned. "I think it's the commitment we both would have to make to lead House Baratheon."

"The Dragon Queen can't even have children. Why must we?"

She thought for a moment. "It's a good point. I mean, we don't even know whether we're both fertile. We would need to designate an heir anyway until one was produced. We could consult the maesters on lineage, find out what family is your closest relatives, and just choose among them an heir. Perhaps even bring him, or her, to Storm's End as ward."

"Then we needn't have children at all," Gendry said, relieved.

"I've already been drinking moon tea," Arya said, grinning at him.

He laughed. "Planned on seducing me for awhile, have you?"

"Yeah, I have," she admitted.

"So, what say you, Arya of House Stark? Will you marry me, be my equal partner in ruling the Stormlands, and probably not bear any children?"

"Gendry of House Baratheon, I accept," she said. "Now, will you bed me, you stupid bull?"

He laughed and pulled her close. "I accept."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Sansa frowned as she realized Arya and Gendry had sneaked away from the feast. It was up to her, then, to continue their matchmaking plan.

"Cousin Robin," Sansa said, pulling him into a warm embrace. On cue, Lady Melessa Tarly, now a co-conspirator, stepped in to distract Littlefinger. "It is so wonderful to have you here for the wedding. Thank you for coming."

"I am very happy to be here, Cousin Sansa. My Queen," he said, giving her a bow.

"Thank you, truly. It means the world to Jon and me that you've come. Your support, your military strength, we are forever in your debt."

"We're family, in fact, you're the only family I have left now. Other than Lord Petyr, of course."

"Oh, Robin," she said, embracing him again. "Jon, Arya and I, we'll always take care of each other. Us orphans must stick together."

"Sansa, I… I'm glad you found a love match in King Jon. Then you won't be alone, at least."

"You're a man grown, now Robin. Surely a lady has caught your eye by now. A lady, sweet and kind and beauteous."

He blushed. "I've met ladies, but none I think would want to be locked away in the Eyrie with me."

"You do yourself a disservice. I imagine there's a lady out there who would like nothing more than to run away to live in the Eyrie with you," she said, casting a glance at Talla. She saw Talla look at them, catch Robin's eye, and look away with a blush.

"Do you know Lady Talla well?" he asked.

"I've only just met her, but Lyanna Mormont speaks highly of her. She's the younger sister of Jon's dearest friend Samwell, of the Night's Watch. I'm told she's as kind as she is beautiful."

He nodded. "I like her. A lot. How long is she staying at Winterfell?"

"The remainder of the week. She will leave with the rest of the caravan. Perhaps an invitation to the Eyrie would be in order? It's winter, after all, they will need rest and supplies before continuing south."

"That's quite out of their way," Robin said, as he caught Talla looking back at him.

"Somehow, I don't think she'll mind," Sansa said. "Come, you're a grown man, have some wine with me."

"I think that's a splendid idea," he grinned at her, as he followed her to Talla's table.

* * *

"It's an ambitious plan, My Queen," Lord Varys said as he refilled her cup. "But the Arryn lordling and the Lady seem to both be interested in a match."

"I don't suppose Lord Baelish will approve," Dany replied.

"It won't be his decision. But he'll assume he can still influence the outcome," Tyrion said.

"He won't have any influence soon enough. Not now that the boy's reached majority age and can wed," Dany said.

"He won't back away from his power that easily, My Queen," Varys said.

* * *

"We thank you all for joining us this evening, but it is time my bride and I bid you all a goodnight. My Queen, My Lords and Ladies, enjoy the celebration!" Jon said, raising his glass.

"Enjoy your celebration too, King Crow!" Tormund bellowed. The crowd laughed and drained their cups.

Jon whisked Sansa away to his, now their, chambers, barely able to contain himself.

"Finally," he breathed into her hair, as he latched the door behind them.

"You're telling me," she laughed, pulling strings on her gown, disrobing as quickly as possible. Once she was down to her small clothes, she grinned at him. "The rest is yours to do, Husband."

He kissed her passionately, his hands in her soft, red hair. "I love you."

"And I love you."

She was slick with desire as he pressed into her, and she was almost surprised to find the sensation was completely enjoyable and there was no pain involved. Pleasure over-wrote pain as she pushed away memories of her last wedding night, staring up at the face of the man she loved most in the world, rather than the man she most hated and feared.

It would still be a long time, if ever, to forget the pain of having been Ramsay's wife, Ramsay's victim. But she was no longer either. Now she was a Queen and was loved.

* * *

In the shadows, Littlefinger handed a bag of coins to a man. "I want it done tomorrow. Make it look like an accident."

"A man will give the gift as you command," the man replied, and silently walked away.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Jon closed and latched the door to his, no, their chambers, and took a breath. Even though he and Sansa had been far from maintaining their chastity these past months, he found himself nervous. When he turned to face his bride, however, he was surprised to find her standing before him, slowly undressing herself. She looked confident and seductive.

When she was down to her small clothes, she began undressing him. She brought her mouth to his chest, kissing across it, being especially attentive to his scars. His nervousness gave way to arousal as her hands swiftly relieved him of his trousers, then ran across his now bare ass to pull him closer.

He kissed her passionately, removing her small clothes as he laid her gently upon the bed. They had been waiting for months to be joined, and as he slid inside her for the first time, he felt more joy than he'd ever had. No guilt, no reservations, just love between them, and hope for the future.

After he climaxed, he laid beside her, her red hair splayed across his chest. "I love you," he murmured into her hair.

He felt her smile against his chest. "So, it was a good idea then? Our marriage?"

"You have the best ideas. I promise to always listen to them. You don't have to be sneaky about it."

She laughed. "Well, in that case, I'll be sure to tell you my opinion on a great number of matters tomorrow."

"Absolutely, My Queen," he said, kissing her head.

* * *

The weather was particularly frigid, but the heavy snowfall had blanketed the ground, making tracking easier. A reprieve from snowfall allowed for clear visibility. The elk would not escape their arrows.

"Shhh," Arya calmed her horse. She was hunting with the group, but not on the lookout for game.

She could spot the false face almost immediately; it had been part of her training. But what she couldn't figure out was the assassin's target. She assumed it was her, assumed she had been followed from Braavos after all, assumed the House of Black and White hadn't let her go. So she had separated from the group, giving the assassin an opportunity to strike. But he hadn't. He hadn't even noticed her. His gaze remained on the group of lords. It wasn't her then. She needed to narrow it down.

She thought through who was the most likely target, but other than, of course, the King in the North, she came up empty. Jon was likely still in bed with her sister, and hadn't joined them on the hunt. It would take a great deal of coin to hire a faceless man, and certainly, the assassin would have taken awhile to arrive from Braavos, unless he was already in Westeros.

She could take the man by surprise, and just slit his throat. He obviously didn't notice her, or know of her, or he would be keeping a watchful eye on her. But then she would have to explain murdering one of Lord Tarly's men. No, she needed to catch him in the act.

* * *

With several elk having been shot, the hunting party returned to Winterfell to warm themselves and later enjoy some fresh meat. They were also in the company of the newlywed King and Queen in the North, who were being disgustingly affectionate. Arya was grateful to return the fire, her fingers stiff from the cold. She had grown accustomed to the southern warmth, the cold made her body ache in a way it never did before. She supposed she won't have to deal with the cold much anymore, just wind and rain, as the Lady of Storm's End.

She felt conflicted at this thought of leaving Winterfell, especially so soon after her return. It wasn't her home anymore though. It was Sansa's home, and here, she would be under Sansa's rule. She still wasn't certain she was making the right decision when it came to her future, but if she had any chance of living the life she wanted, she knew it was not at Winterfell where she had no real place. No, her place was at Gendry's side.

She smiled up at him as he brought her a mug of hot tea and sat next to her by the fire.

"I'm not used to this cold, m'lady," he shivered.

"That's 'My Lady,' you know. You've got to talk like a proper lord now, Stupid," she grinned into her mug.

"Aye, and you're a proper lady now, then? No more talk of pissing in front of you?" he laughed.

She laughed warmly at the memory, moments of levity amidst all of their darkness. He always did see right through her, even then.

"So, who here besides me has caught your eye, My Lady?" he asked in a whisper.

She looked up at him with surprise.

"Oh, you don't think I notice when I don't have your attention?" he asked, intimately into her ear.

She shivered, and felt him smile against her ear when he'd noticed. _Arrogant bastard_.

"I'm not sure yet who has my attention, or rather, who has his atten—oh!" she said, and in a move that surprised even Gendry with her dexterity, she pulled a dagger and threw it into the back of a Faceless Man's neck.

"Arya! What in Seven Hells?!" Jon shouted, as the man fell forward dead.

"That was… he was one of my men… why would you…?" Dickon stammered.

She calmly walked over to them. She knelt down to retrieve her dagger out of the man's neck, paused to wipe it clean on the man's clothes, then pulled away his false face.

"Your man's been dead at least a week. The assassin traveled with you," Arya said, sheathing her dagger.

"A Faceless Man, Lady Arya. How very astute of you to have noticed," Lord Varys said, looking at her knowingly.

"I'm very observant," she said, pointedly.

"But who was he trying to kill? Jon? Queen Daenerys?" Sansa asked.

"He poured poison into a cup," Arya said.

"Whose cup?" Jon asked. Those who had been drinking suddenly stopped and put their cups down in terror.

"The poison was meant for Lord Robin," she said.

"Me?" he squeaked. "Who would want to kill me?"

"I can't imagine who would want to do you harm, Dear Cousin. Can you think of anyone?" Sansa asked gently.

One of his bannermen spoke up, "This assassin came with Lord Tarly!"

"No, he did not 'come with' me, he murdered my man and stole his face," Dickon said, seething.

"And you were too careless to notice!" another bannerman replied.

Sansa looked at Littlefinger, who said nothing. She thought he looked pleased for someone whose stepson and Liege Lord was nearly murdered by a Faceless assassin. She frowned. Why was he always five steps ahead of them?

"My Lords," Sansa spoke up. "Obviously this assassin was a plot from Cersei, only she would have the kind of gold it would take, and murderous cunning, to hire a Faceless Man. She probably targeted Lord Robin, because he has such a strong hold on our most valuable ally, the Vale, as Warden of the East. This assassin must have already been on his way to Winterfell when he found the Tarly men on the road and murdered one of them to take his face. Which means that Cersei also knows House Tarly is a friend of the North and loyal to our rightful Queen."

"My Lords and Ladies, in light of this discovery, would you be so kind as to conduct a review of all of your men? We cannot afford more spies or assassins to go undiscovered," Jon said.

"Aye," they answered, and either bowed or curtseyed as they exited.

"Was it Cersei?" Jon whispered to Sansa.

"Of course not," she whispered back.

However, she was pleased to see that Lady Talla had rushed to Robin to comfort him, and that, for once, Robin wasn't acting like a blathering idiot, but keeping it together to impress his lady love.

She looked up to see that Littlefinger had also noticed this development. She took a deep breath, hoping that this was the last of it for now.

* * *

"So, how is the House of Black and White these days, My Lady?" Lord Varys asked Arya, as he suddenly appeared in the hallway.

Arya sighed. She knew he'd realized what her ability to recognize a Faceless assassin meant.

"Brutal and unforgiving," she answered.

"I guess this explains the interesting stories out of The Twins," he said. "Like how Walder Frey murdered all of his sons with poison, but then ripped off his face and became a woman. Sounds completely mad."

"I suppose it does," she said.

"My Lady, in all frankness, those who train with the Faceless Men, they don't get to just walk out of there without a lifetime of servitude."

"What is it you're asking me, Lord Varys?"

"Are you still with the Faceless Men? Or did you run away?"

"I walked away. I traded another life for mine."

"So this assassin wasn't really after you?"

"No. That's what I assumed at first, but I gave him multiple opportunities to target me and he never took them. He never even glanced at me, in fact. I don't know him at all, he wasn't there when I trained. He was after Robin."

"The poison that he used, your Maester said it's a type that would have caused what appeared to be a common illness."

"Then no one would have suspected it was poison. Robin's always been a sickly sort of boy, the sort that would be felled by a common cold."

"Then I would disagree with the theory of the Queen in the North that it was Cersei who hired the assassin."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"For starters, she's out of coin and heavily in debt. Also, when the Lannisters kill, they send their regards, they don't hide it."

"Except for my father, I suppose," Gendry said, coming up behind them.

"Except for your father, My Lord," Varys agreed. "They did, however, openly kill all of your half brothers and sisters. Only you survived."

"Thanks to Arya," he said, with a sad smile. He supposed he hadn't really dwelt much on the murder of all those children, being too concerned with staying alive himself. He reflected on how lucky he was.

"And Lord Robin has her to thank as well. Capital you can use to your advantage," Varys said.

Arya shrugged. "I'm not one to play these games. That's your area of expertise."

"Seeing as you'll be the Lady of Storm's End, you'll need to develop those skills. Good day, My Lord, My Lady," he said, and continued down the hall.

Arya stood stunned. "How did he…?"

Gendry laughed. "I guess there's a reason they call him The Spider then."

"I guess we might as well tell Jon and Sansa since it's no longer a secret," Arya laughed, as he grabbed her and kissed her.

* * *

That evening after dinner, Arya went to speak to Sansa in private and told her what she decided. Gendry had gone to ask permission of the King in the North to wed the Queen's sister.

"Arya, are you sure this is what you want?" Sansa asked. "I thought you never wanted to marry?"

"I didn't, and I still don't really, but I do love Gendry and I want to be with him. We've agreed we don't want children, and we're going to name an heir from the Stormlands. But we're going to govern from Storm's End and lead the Stormlands for Daenerys."

"So, you really want this? You want to leave Winterfell and be Lady of Storm's End?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do," Arya said, almost surprised at the realization.

Sansa laughed and shook her head.

"What? Is that bad?" Arya asked, unsure. "I thought you'd be pleased…"

"No, it's just… when we were children, I couldn't wait to leave Winterfell. To go south and marry some southern lord and be his Lady in a castle. And you, you never wanted to leave. You were so angry that Father made you come with us to King's Landing. All you wanted to do was go home."

"And now the roles are reversed?" Arya suggested.

"Yeah. Now you'll be the Lady of a southern castle, and here I am at Winterfell, married to our bastard half-brother!" Sansa laughed.

Arya laughed too.

"It suits you though," Arya said. "Lady of Winterfell, Queen in the North, Sansa Targaryen. It suits you. And so does being in love with our cousin Jon Targaryen."

"It is sad though, for the Stark name and banners to not fly in Winterfell," Sansa frowned.

"They're still up though. It's just a mixture, however," Arya said. "Both wolves and dragons. Fire and ice."

She nodded, pleased by the thought. "So, antlers for you then?"

"Yeah, antlers and wolves. I guess I'll need new armor," Arya grinned.

"Is that what you'll wear to your wedding?" Sansa scowled.

"Well, I'm not wearing some stupid dress."

* * *

Arya wore some stupid dress.

Sansa made her do it. She could have refused, but Sansa convinced her that Gendry would prefer it. She needed to be feminine sometimes. A wedding was one of those times. Even Brienne agreed, saying if she were to get married, she would like a nice gown lined with sapphire blue, reminiscent of the blue seas around the Sapphire Isle. Arya grinned, wondering if she intended to take Tormund Giantsbane home to be the future Lord of Evenfall Hall.

As Jon walked her down the snowy path to the godswood to say her vows to Gendry, she felt stupid wearing a stupid dress, one that showed her womanly figure, one that was white and blended into the falling snow. But when she saw the expression on Gendry's face, she knew she'd made the right choice, all of the right choices; she was Gendry's wife.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The winter winds blew hard, even across the south. Westeros was united against Cersei, under the Dragon Queen, Daenerys of House Targaryen. The North, held by Jon and Sansa of House Targaryen, King and Queen in the North. The Vale, held by Lord Robin and Lady Talla of House Arryn. The Riverlands, held once again by Lord Edmure and Lady Roslin of House Tully. The Reach, held by the Queen of Thorns, Lady Olenna of House Tyrell, who had made Lord Randyll Tully the designated Warden of the South in her stead. Ellaria Sand held Dorne, and Yara Greyjoy was Queen of the Iron Islands. Finally, the Stormlands, held by Lord Gendry and Lady Arya of House Baratheon. Cersei held only The Westerlands and King's Landing by the time her former vassals were allying against her, having bent the knee to the Dragon Queen.

Cersei was sitting on the Iron Throne as word came that the Dragon Queen was at the gates. Three dragons, Dothraki screamers, the Unsullied, and nearly all of the armies and navies of Westeros. She drank heavily from her goblet, enjoying the last of the wine they had in King's Landing. The blockade had been lengthy, and King's Landing had only supplies for six months, the coffers empty and heavily indebted to the Iron Bank.

"Cersei," Jaime said, looking up at her from the steps of the throne room. "It's time to surrender. Tyrion said our safety would be assured. The Dragon Queen will pardon us, let us go home to Casterly Rock."

"Fuck our murderous demon of a brother. This is my throne, my kingdom. No Targaryen bitch is going to take that from me," Cersei said, refilling her goblet.

"Cersei, be reasonable. We have lost. The enemy is at the gate."

"Go kill him. Go kill our brother and then I'll leave with you," Cersei taunted.

"No."

"No?" Cersei repeated, furious. "He killed our son. The bitch that killed our daughter is with him. The old cunt whose granddaughter seduced our youngest son and made him kill himself is with them…"

"No," Jaime repeated. "Stop it. Stop blaming everyone else for your treachery. For Father's betrayals. For our sins. We have nothing left but each other, and our home. Daenerys is Queen now, King's Landing is hers."

"That's where you're wrong, Jaime," she sneered.

"What do you mean?"

"There won't be a King's Landing," she grinned wickedly. "And there won't be a Targaryen bitch left to sit the Iron Throne. Or any other treasonous lords and ladies, or any filthy peasants for that matter."

"What have you done?" he gasped. "Where's Qyburn?"

"I sent him to the Wall," she said, refilling her glass again.

"To take the Black?" he asked.

"No. To burn the Wall," she said, taking another gulp of wine.

"What?" he gasped.

"I'm burning the Wall. Jon Snow keeps crying about the dead rising beyond the Wall, well, he'll be crying even harder when that wall comes down. Any minute now, in fact."

"Cersei, do you have any idea what you've done? The army of the dead sounds ridiculous, but even the Citadel is confirming the reports."

"Good. It'll wipe out all of our enemies."

"It'll wipe us out too! All of humanity!"

"Then I suggest you drink up before the wine is gone," she said, coldly.

"Where is Qyburn going? I'm sending a raven to Castle Black," Jaime demanded.

"No, you aren't," she said, coldly.

"Yes, I am," he shouted.

"Guards!" she shouted.

Six Lannister guards entered on her command.

"Take my brother and lock him in his chambers," she commanded. "He is not to be released."

Jaime looked at her, as though he was just seeing her for the first time.

* * *

It was an entire day before Cersei entered his chambers.

"Have you come to your senses?" he asked.

"Have you?" she retorted.

"This is madness, Cersei. What you're unleashing on Westeros…"

"Westeros deserves it."

They sat in silence, drinking the wine she'd brought.

"I don't want this to be the end," Jaime said. "I love you, and I want a life with you."

"Oh, Jaime," she said. "I love you. And we will fight on."

At that she put down her wine glass, and began to disrobe. He watched in silence as she bared herself before him, and then led him to his bed. He kissed her hard, as she writhed under him.

He wanted this. He wanted her. He wanted them to be together. But he was the Kingslayer, the Kingsguard who had chosen Westeros, chosen the people, over his king. He could never escape that moment, but he could never regret it. The Mad King would have burned all of King's Landing. And the Mad Queen…

He put his hands around her throat and squeezed. Gently at first and then harder, until she began to panic and struggle. He crushed in her pale, white throat with his golden hand until the life drained from her.

The Queen was dead.

He covered her with a sheet, and wrote out several scrolls, sealing them with the Lannister seal. He rolled them up, and ordered the guard outside the door to send the ravens immediately.

With his sword, his son's sword, Widow's Wail, he took his own life in the bed beside his sister, his lover, his Queen.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"My sister is dead," Tyrion exhaled. He didn't know how to feel about it. He hated her, she certainly hated him. But he knew that Jaime had loved her. And Jaime...

"If Jaime's killed her, then… oh no. No no no. Jaime, you damned fool," he felt himself beginning to lose his balance, realizing what it meant.

"I don't understand, what's wrong?" Daenerys said, catching him on one side, as Missandei caught the other. They sat with him on the floor of the tent.

"Jaime… he's dead too," Tyrion said, the tears streaming down his face.

"Oh, Tyrion," she said, her eyes welling up with tears at the sight of Tyrion's grief. She pulled him into her arms. "I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry."

Missandei gently took the scroll from Tyrion's hands and examined it. "My Queen, there is more on this scroll. We need to secure King's Landing and then send the forces North immediately."

"I apologize. What have I missed?" Tyrion asked, wiping his face on his sleeves.

Daenerys took the scroll and read it. "The Wall may be breached. It's Cersei's parting gift to the world, unleashing the dead upon us."

* * *

The horns blew at Castle Black as a figure of a wildling woman pulling a sled with a wildling man upon it came into view. Eddison Tollett, the 999th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, had been walking the Wall when he saw them approach.

Once they were satisfied the couple posed no threat, and were not under the control of the Night's King, he let them in the gate.

"I'm Lord Commander Tollett. You two are to go to Eastwatch," he said. "The rest of the free folk are there."

"We aren't wildlings," Meera said. "I'm Lady Meera of House Reed. This is Lord Brandon of House Stark. Is his brother Jon Snow here?"

He looked at her, then at Bran, incredulous. "My Lady, how long have you two been wandering beyond the wall?"

She shook her head. "I don't even know. But it's been years."

"Jon Snow isn't here any long. He's the King in the North now. And he isn't Jon Snow. He's…"

"Jon Targaryen. I know," Bran said. "The Night's King is coming. It won't be long now. You need to send word to all the Houses. The war is coming, and the Wall will fall."

Dolorous Edd sent ravens to all of the Houses as instructed, and the next day sent a wagon south to Winterfell, carrying Meera and Bran. He wasn't sure he believed the Wall would fall, but he wasn't taking any chances on being alone.

However, the word he received back was both good and terrifying. Cersei was dead, Daenerys was now Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and the new Queen would send every available soldier to the North, including the Dothraki and the Unsullied, and would come herself, along with her dragons.

It was only hours after he had sent all rangers out along the south side of the Wall to look for saboteurs that a green light ripped through the wall, coming from the West. They barely had time to evacuate before Castle Black was destroyed, and the Wall came down.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

"Fuck," Jon said, reading the scroll from Edd. "Sansa, send ravens out to every Northern House, to King's Landing and every Great House throughout Westeros, in that order; the Wall has fallen. Edd and the Night's Watch have retreated back to Last Hearth. Tormund, Brienne, you're with me, we leave now."

"Jon! You can't go out there, it's too dangerous," she said, trying not to sound too panicked. She rubbed the swell of her abdomen protectively.

"Your Grace, the Queen is right. Your place is in Winterfell," Davos agreed.

"Normally I'd say it's a right fucking coward that doesn't lead his men, but you've got another job to do, King Crow," Tormund said.

Brienne nodded. "Your Grace, Queen Daenerys will bring the dragons. You need to wait for her. Let Tormund and I go and lead your men. The dragons are our best bet, and two riders are better than one."

"Okay, I'll wait. On one condition. Sansa, you're going South to the Eyrie."

"No, I'm staying here, there must always be a Stark in Winterfell…"

Just then a guard entered. "Begging your pardon, Your Grace. But a convoy from the Wall has arrived. They've brought Lord Bran and Lady Meera with them."

Sansa let out a sob and ran out, Jon following behind.

"Bran!" Jon called, as they reached them. Jon and Sansa hugged him tightly.

Sansa embraced Meera. "My Lady, thank you for your service to my brother. Your Lord Father will be so relieved to have you home safely."

"There's no time for that, Meera. The Night's King is coming, Jon," Bran said.

"I know. The Wall has fallen," Jon said.

"I have a lot to tell you," he said, solemnly. "We have much work to do."

* * *

"Gendry!" Arya shouted over the sounds of the forge. By order of the Dragon Queen, dragonglass was being forged by every blacksmith, master and apprentice alike, into weapons to kill the dead.

"Over there, M'Lady," a gruff older man pointed.

She rushed over to him, gripping the scroll. "Gendry!"

He saw the look of panic on her face, and handed his hammer to the apprentice he was training. "Finish this up, lad. Just like I showed you."

"Aye, M'Lord," the boy said, hefting the hammer with as much strength as he could muster.

They left the forge, and Arya took him aside.

"It's the wall. It's been breached. The dead are coming," she whispered, handing him the scroll.

"Seven hells," he gasped, reading the scroll from Winterfell. "We don't have enough weapons. Not nearly enough."

"We've got every blacksmith, apprentice, and anyone strong enough to wield a hammer but unable to fight making them. It must be enough."

"Let's hope the rest of Westeros has been as productive. We're out of time. We just didn't have enough time."

"We ride at first light. I'll go begin preparations."

"Is your brother sure this is the wisest course of action? To put all of our forces forward at once?"

"If we don't, then we have to fight our dead allies as they come further south."

"Fair point," he said, looking pained.

"I have to admit, I miss the days when the worst enemies we had were the Lannisters," she said with a weak smile.

"They did kill our fathers," he reminded her.

"Yeah, but they didn't wipe out all of humanity," she noted.

"One, don't count us out yet. And two, this is pretty much Cersei's fault, you know," he said, hanging a filthy arm over her, always one for good humor in the face of certain death.

"Good point. I should have gone to King's Landing instead of The Twins. Walder Frey would probably be dead by now anyway."

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't get to wear his face and terrorize your Uncle Edmure…"

* * *

"Edmure, you can't go!" Roslin said, holding onto their wiggling son. "Brynden and I just got you back."

"I can't stay here while my bannermen die for me. I need to fight with them. It's the only way."

"I've already lost all of my brothers, and my father, I can't lose you too. Edmure, please," she begged.

He took her into his arms. "Roslin, I'm sorry. You deserve a better husband than I've been. But the people of the Riverlands deserve a better liege lord than I've been. My father wouldn't have stayed behind, nor would the Blackfish. I love you, Roslin, and if I don't come back…"

"No," she shook her head. "Don't you dare. You will come back. You will…"

He kissed her deeply, then kissed the top of his son's head. "If I don't come back, tell him I died so he could live. So you could live. So his brother or sister could live."

He mounted his horse and rode away from the castle, as Roslin cried, cradling their son.

* * *

"Lord Robin, a raven from your cousin Sansa," Gilly said, rushing into the courtyard. "I'm sorry to interrupt, My Lord, My Lady, but I knew you'd want this right away."

"Thank you, Gilly," he said, opening it. "Oh, gods."

"What is it, Robin?" Lady Talla said, worried.

"The Wall has fallen. Gilly, go send ravens, call up the bannermen. Talla, write to your Lord Father…"

"Robin… I'm going with you," she said, stopping him, as Gilly ran inside.

"What?"

"To the North. I'm going with you," she said, firmly.

"No. You... might be with child," he said, frowning.

"I'm not. I'm sure of it. And I can fight. I used to spar with Samwell, to try to help toughen him up. I mean, it didn't, but I still know how to fight. And I've been training, just like King Jon instructed. Gilly and I both have. I can do this. We can do it together, Robin."

"Talla, neither of us should be out there. We can just stay here in the Eyrie. We'll be safe here," Robin said, pulling her close.

She shook herself loose. "Never. I will not hide here while others die for us."

She stomped inside. He called after her, puzzled, "Why not?"

* * *

"So this is it. This is how humanity falls," Lady Olenna said, drinking her wine, looking out from Highgarden. "Cersei wins in the end, I suppose. Wretched woman."

"We will fight and defend our lands from the dead, My Lady," Lord Randyll replied curtly. "I do not intend to let my house die."

"Ah, yes, you still have hopes that handsome son of yours will win the heart of the Dragon Queen should the dead be defeated. Yes, I should have been so clever. Loras… he was such a beautiful young man, a brave knight like your son Dickon; yes, he might have had a chance as well. But when you choose the side of Cersei Lannister, all you get is burned," she said bitterly.

He put a kind hand on Olenna's shoulder. "We will win this war. For Loras, for Margaery, for your house."

"Thank you, Randyll. I know Mace didn't always appreciate you, but you've always proven your worth."

"I expect I'm about to get the chance to prove it again."

* * *

"And this poison, it is made with dragonglass?" Ellaria Sand asked, sitting at the table in a conference room at the Citadel.

"We've condensed it down in order to mass produce it, but still think it will be effective," Samwell Tarly shifted uncomfortably under the woman's gaze.

"You think? I do not want to wager my life, or the lives of the men and women following me, on what you think you know. You aren't even a maester yourself. What do you even know," she said, examining the liquid in the clear flask.

"We're confident enough to have already produced enough to outfit a quarter of the armies of Westeros. Archmaester Marwyn did the work himself, My Lady," Sam said. "He's the um, the only archmaester who holds links of Valyrian steel, meaning he…"

"Yes, yes, I know what that means," she said. "What I don't know is if this will work to kill a white walker when I stab it through with my spear. The King in the North believes in your abilities, but I have doubts."

"My Lady, we plan to have it tested. We are sending it to the Wall to the Night's Watch. It will be used to coat arrows, and that will give us a chance to know for certain."

She nodded. "We are almost prepared, but we do not have nearly enough dragonglass weapons. We've forged all the dragonglass we have from Dragonstone, but not enough to arm every man and woman. I hope your solution is the correct one."

"Tarly," Archmaester Ebrose barked, opening the door. "You're needed."

"Archmaester, this is Ellaria Sand, she rules Dorne."

"Then you're needed too. Come. Quickly," he said, rushing out.

"This way, My Lady," Samwell said, leading her out the door.

* * *

"There they are, My Lady," the Maester said, guiding her spy glass.

Lyanna Mormont inhaled and tried not to show her fear.

"There's… so many of them," she said. "How long before the ice freezes completely and they can walk across to Bear Island?"

"Days, My Lady. A week at most," he said, sadly.

"And how much dragonglass do we have?"

"King Jon gave us enough to outfit a quarter of our fighters," he answered.

"Send a raven to the Iron Islands. We need reinforcements by sea, and their ice breakers. And send a raven to King's Landing. We need the Dragon Queen."

* * *

"Yara, you can't possibly intend on making land, not with the army of the dead pouring into the North," Theon said, closing the door to captain's quarters.

"I don't want to, but at the point we run out of ammunition for the canons, we won't be of much use," she said, pouring herself a goblet of wine. "Are you afraid, little brother? Afraid of the big bad Night's King?"

He laughed. "I still don't believe it. Everyone says it's true, here we are sailing to fight a war with him, and I still don't quite believe it."

"Well, the Night's King won't believe it either. He hasn't met the Ironborn, has he? I want his head as a trophy," she said, with a grin.

Theon just shook his head.

"Come in!" she called at the knock on her door.

A Pyke lord entered. "My Queen, we have Bear Island in sight. And… you and the Prince need to see this. We can spy them on the mainland from here. It's the army of the dead."

* * *

"Tyrion, I need to speak with you alone before I depart," the Queen said. "Leave us."

All but Tyrion exited her chambers.

"Sansa is with child, but I need to name an heir if that child does not survive, should Jon and I not survive."

Tyrion nodded.

"It is you, My Lord Hand," she said.

He faltered. "My Queen, a wiser choice would be…"

"I know. I know there are wiser choices. Gendry Baratheon, perhaps, or Edmure Tully. Even Randyl Tarly. But you are my Hand. And you already rule in my stead. And I can think of no one more suited to sit the Iron Throne in my absence, or in my place, should there be no more Targaryens."

He frowned. "Then you had better make it back alive, lest Westeros be saddled with its first Dwarf King."

She smiled and bent down to kiss the top of his head. "You would be a great and wise king, Tyrion. But I'm hopeful you don't get the chance to replace me."

"Nor do I, My Queen," he said, kissing her hand.

"Let's get the Maester in here to make it official. I need to leave as soon as possible. I have a date with the Night's King."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The situation looked grim as Brienne and Tormund dismounted their horses, Pod close behind. Behind them were the northmen and wildlings, waiting for their signal. They had agreed that they would approach the keep alone. Tormund had a great deal of experience with the dead, and Brienne had a great deal of experience with her Valyrian steel sword.

However, Last Hearth was empty.

The Umbers and the Night's Watch had definitely been there recently, as recently as the day prior. But no battle had occurred. The keep had been evacuated. Had they fled to Winterfell, they would have encountered them.

"Check the Lord's chambers, and the maester's, for any communications or evacuation plan. And send a raven to Winterfell to report," Brienne ordered Pod.

"Where would they have gone?" Tormund asked after they'd searched the last of the keep.

"I assume there's an evacuation plan. The nearest keep to Last Hearth would be… Karhold. But they could have split up. Sent those who can't fight to sail for Skagos. The better question is, where are the dead?"

"So, what do we do?" Tormund frowned. "We're supposed to help the Crows. Where are the Crows?"

"Headed to the Dreadfort, My Lord," Pod answered. "The maester left a note. The Night's Watch is leading the dead into a trap."

"What sort of a trap? What can we do to help?" Brienne wondered.

"We need to send a convoy to protect the children and elderly from Last Hearth and Karhold traveling to Skagos," Pod said. "And then cut through Long Lake to get to Hornwood. We need to reinforce Hornwood in case the trap at the Dreadfort doesn't destroy enough of them. That was, uh, the instructions left behind."

"You heard the lad, Tormund," she nodded, clapping Pod on the back and leading the way back to their horses.

* * *

The southern armies had been mobilized quickly, but could not outdo the speed of dragons. The Dragon Queen arrived at Winterfell without any fanfare, collected her nephew, Dany speeding towards Bear Island, and Jon towards the Dreadfort. Viserion stayed at Winterfell to keep watch.

The Night's Watch had succeeded in tricking a significant number of the dead into entering the Dreadfort, and bridges had been destroyed to trap them there. The dead could not swim. Jon gave the command of "Dracarys" and burned the previously-abandoned Dreadfort, filled with thousands of wights. It was a nice dent in the number, but not nearly enough.

Meanwhile, Dany blasted the ice surrounding Bear Island, keeping the dead from crossing. Drogon spit fire for several hours at a distance, but the dead kept coming. Dany briefly considered the fact that she had not caught sight of the Night's King, and wondered if Jon had. She also wondered if this was just a distraction for a bigger campaign.

* * *

Bran sat out in the godswood, Meera watching over him with a pained expression on her face. He didn't notice, however. He hardly noticed Meera anymore. Instead, he was searching for the Night's King, flying over the North with a flock of ravens. That's where he spotted him, out in the open, on the King's Road, nearly to Winterfell. It would be too late, he realized, by the time he got word to Jon and Dany to return. By the time Brienne and Tormund returned with the bulks of Winterfell's soldiers. Could he do it? he wondered. Could he control the dragon?

"Meera," he said, softly. "I need you to go send a raven to each Northern House. The Night's King is coming to Winterfell."

Bran gathered all of his strength and searched for Viserion. As he entered his mind, he could think of one word only - dracarys.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Viserion flew through the air as he struggled to regain control from the invader. Meanwhile, Bran the invader, struggled to maintain control of the dragon.

Meera had ran quickly to the maester to send the ravens and had sounded the alarms.

"My Queen," Meera gasped to Sansa as she had come out to investigate the commotion. "The dead are coming. To Winterfell."

Sansa instinctually grabbed at her abdomen as she listened to Meera explain that Bran had commandeered Dany's riderless dragon, bringing him to protect Winterfell.

"My Queen," Ser Davos said. "The safe room is prepared for you. We should go now. You should go with her, My Lady."

Meera shook her head. "My place is at Bran's side. I will protect him."

Sansa embraced Meera. "Be careful."

"Ser Davos, you need to stay with me," Sansa said, as they hurried.

"But, My Queen, someone needs to give orders, and I'm no fighter, I couldn't defend you if I wanted to. And you must be defended. You carry the heir to the Iron Throne, the future of our kingdom."

"I'll stay with her," the Hound said, appearing with Lord Beric and his red priest.

"And we will go fight the dead," Lord Beric nodded.

"Thank you, Sandor," Sansa nodded. "Ser Davos, take care. Lord Beric, make certain you protect the Hand of the King in the North. He's essential. He and my brother, they must be protected."

"Aye, My Queen," he said, bowing. The three men left.

The Hound followed her into the safe room and barricaded the door, which was reinforced with dragon glass.

* * *

Exhausted, Dany climbed down off of Drogon once the last of the dead were toast. A knight from Bear Island was there to help her down, and into the castle. Queen Yara and Prince Theon had already taken the fleet back south to avoid their ships becoming stuck and would travel by land back to Winterfell once they landed. She entered the dining hall and was immediately tended to by a very relieved Missandei, and a solemn Grey Worm, who looked no worse for the wear after a lengthy battle.

"How many of the enemy do we believe were killed, My Lady?" she warily asked Lyanna as she took a seat and a grateful drink of ale. Lyanna looked as exhausted as she felt. The girl was covered in soot from the fires they had set and launched at the dead.

"At least ten thousand," Lyanna said. "You fought bravely today, My Queen. We are grateful to you, and owe you our lives."

Dany smiled weakly. "What sort of Queen sits safely in a castle if she has the ability to lead?"

She nodded, and sat across from her at the table. "Aye, and that's why I went to lead my men as well. Because the Dragon Queen inspires the women of Westeros to be more than just ladies in castles. You inspire us to be leaders and warriors."

Dany grabbed Lyanna's hand and smiled at her warmly. "You, My Lady, were already both. As was your brave Lady Mother, I'm told."

Lyanna nodded, her face uncharacteristically full of emotion. Dany squeezed her hand again, then drank the rest of her ale.

* * *

"That was the last of them, My King," Brienne said. "Our casualties were fortunately few, and have been burned. And I can't say I am sad to see the Dreadfort burn either."

"Aye, neither am I. It proved a useful castle after all," Jon smiled.

"Still no sign of the dead king though," Tormund frowned. "Where is that fucker anyway?"

"I don't know. But we need to head to Hornwood and leave reinforcements before we return to Winterfell. With the rest of the North evacuated to either Karhold or Skagos, we need to know that Bear Island held."

"My King!" Pod ran up towards them. "My King, a fleet of ships has landed."

"Ships?" Jon repeated. "Whose ships?"

"They're from Volantis."

They turned back to ride down to the harbor and meet the ships.

"I am Kinvara, High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, servant of R'hllor," the Red Woman said, as Red Priests and Priestesses hurried from the ships, unloading them. Although from Volantis, none of them seemed bothered by the cold. "We have come at the behest of Melisandre, to serve the Dragon Queen, in the battle against the Night King."

"I am her nephew, Jon, King in the North. We are glad to have you join our fight."

"It is our fight as well, King Jon, not just that of Westeros. Eternal winter will come to Essos should Westeros fall to the Night King. We must not waste time, however. I have already seen into the flames. The Night King is near. We must return to your castle at once."

"To Winterfell? Is that where the Night King is headed?" Brienne asked.

"Aye, he seeks the only one who can defeat him. We must leave at once."


End file.
